This was it.
One last breakfast together as a family. One last morning in this secret little corner of paradise, to bask in blissful normality, before Red had to return to his decades-long quest—on his own for the first time since he turned himself in to the FBI.
Red had to remind himself this wasn't forever—but that didn't make leaving any easier. It didn't make dressing for the day ahead any easier, piece by piece, like he was donning a suit of armor. It was time to become The Concierge of Crime once again, a persona he had fashioned out of whole cloth on a foundation built from the skeleton of the real Raymond Reddington.
That wasn't who he truly was, now more so than ever.
Red didn't have to pretend to be anyone other than his true self here in this sanctuary. He had played many roles and had been many things in his life, but for the first time in decades, he was just a man, in love with a woman, raising a child with her. But all good things must come to an end—at least for now.
If things went well, this would, indeed, be his second chance. His second chance to get it right.
He only hoped that he had recharged his batteries enough to carry him through.
"Red?" It was Lizzy's voice that pulled him from his reverie. He had a mostly-eaten plate of breakfast in front of him, a half-drunk mug of coffee, a text from Dembe on his phone telling him the car was ready when he was. "There's something Agnes wants to say to you before you go."
Red crouched down next to Agnes' chair. "What is it, honey?"
She smiled bashfully before darting forward to kiss his cheek. "Have a good day at work today, daddy," she said, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Red felt as if his chest would swell to bursting. And to think 'Pinky' had been something of a triumph for him, proof that Agnes had come to care about him enough to bestow him with a nickname, and such a harmless sounding one at that. It had filled him with such a sense of wonder the first time she called him that, he would remember the day forever.
'Daddy', however, was better. Miles better. Beyond his wildest dreams.
"I'll try," he said, and kissed the top of her head. "I'll talk to you tonight before bed, remember? On mommy's tablet?"
"I remember."
"Good. Now go get ready for school."
Red watched Agnes as she ran off and then stood; Lizzy slipped her hand into his and entwined their fingers.
"Well, at least I won't have to explain why it doesn't look like I've been crying," he said to her, his voice quiet. He wiped away the tears that had spilled down his cheeks, then popped his hat onto his head and leaned in to plant a kiss on Lizzy's smiling lips.
Her hand tightened around his before he could pull away and make a move for the door. "You take care of yourself," she said, her expression much more serious now.
Red brought her hand to his mouth, brushing his mouth over the back of it. "I will, Lizzy."
He took a step towards the door, but shook his head and turned back to Lizzy again, reaching out and framing her face in his hands. She took him by the back of the neck and pulled him closer; when she covered his lips with hers, he surrendered gratefully and allowed himself to live in this hidden world of theirs for just a few more moments, savoring the lazy passion in Lizzy's kisses.
"Until next time," he said, running his thumb across her downy-soft cheek.
Whispers started as soon as Red stepped off the elevator, with Dembe standing as a strong, silent presence at his side.
There was an inescapable truth, the weight of which infused the very air around them: when Raymond Reddington turned himself in to collaborate with the FBI to hunt down criminals worse than he was, he had done so with the caveat that he spoke only with Elizabeth Keen. If Lizzy was dead, why was he even here? The entire foundation for the existence of the task force was gone.
As a criminal, Red had never truly belonged here—and without Lizzy, he was even more out of place.
It was almost, but not quite, like waking from one of his dreams. The return to a so-called reality outside of his dream world was painful, even if he knew that it was only temporary. Even if he knew that it wasn't reality. To everyone he interacted with, it was, and he wasn't about to disabuse them of that notion. He would spend however long it took to round up the rest of his enemies once again living a double life—only this time, the hidden version of himself would be his tamer side.
Ressler clearly noticed him from across the room, but he found something incredibly important to do and ducked inside his office—the office he and Lizzy once shared. He didn't spare Red a second glance, or an acknowledgement of any kind.
Red couldn't help but feel relieved. He hadn't been looking forward to a screaming match with Lizzy's erstwhile, ersatz lover—not so early in the day, at least.
"Mr. Reddington," came a voice, airy with surprise.
Red turned around. "Aram."
Aram stared at him, speechless, for a long moment before he managed to convince his voice to work properly. "I, uh… I'm not even going to ask you if you're OK. I know you're not. None of us are, but I know that you… I know that this is harder for you than it is for any of us," he said. "I just… I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make this better, but I know I can't."
Red put his hand on Aram's shoulder. "Don't worry about me, Aram. I'm getting by. We still have important work to do, after all."
"You're coming back to work?" Aram asked, bewildered. "I mean, obviously you're here now, but… you're back back?"
Red nodded solemnly. "For Elizabeth," he said, and Aram let out a breath in understanding.
"Oh, of course. Of course." He swallowed, and swiped the back of his hand across the tears that welled up suddenly in his eyes. Before Red could turn away and head for Cooper's office, Aram pulled him into a hug. "I'm glad you're alive, Mr. Reddington. I know last time, you… Well, I'm glad."
"Thank you. I don't know how many people share that sentiment. Especially now."
"I don't understand."
"I believe if Agent Ressler were offered my head on a platter, he would gladly take it."
Aram stared through the windows into Ressler's office. "But how could anyone think this is on you? That you would want this?"
Red shrugged. "I have to speak with Harold."
"Right." He nodded. "It was good to see you, sir."
Cooper looked up at the sound of Red rapping his knuckles on the door jamb. "Reddington," he said, shock clear in his voice.
"Harold."
"Come in. Close the door. Sit down."
As Red did as Cooper said, he felt like he was being examined, scrutinized in wary silence for any small hint at his mental state, at whether he was about to fall to pieces at any moment.
Red hadn't felt any pity from Aram, just compassion and shared pain, but he did feel pity now. Not a lot. Not enough to take offense over. But enough that if Lizzy's death hadn't been an illusion, Red's shame might choke him. Enough that he didn't have to dig very deep to put on a convincingly transparent act of false cheer.
"I'll be honest," Cooper said after a while. "I didn't really expect you to show up today."
"I'm a man of my word."
"When it suits you," he said, setting aside his pen and clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. "There's no easy way to say this. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Elizabeth was a loss for all of us."
Cooper looked at him over the top of his reading glasses. "You don't have to pretend anymore, Red. Elizabeth is gone. We know what she meant to you."
"No. No, I don't think you do," Red said, sharply. "You know I'm not here for a social visit. Can we just get down to business? I have a video call scheduled that I simply cannot be late for."
"A video call? That doesn't sound like you. What associate of yours is so important it's worth pushing yourself outside your comfort zone to appease them?"
"Agnes."
Cooper deflated a little in his seat. "How is she?"
Red's cheek twitched. "What do you think?" he said, falling back onto his tried and true strategy of giving only enough information to allow his preferred conclusions to be jumped to.
Red had known when this all started that Harold Cooper was a fundamentally good man; what he hadn't known was that one day he would come to value his friendship, or his opinion of him.
He'd never felt pressure or guilt over the lies and lies by omission he'd built their collaboration around before today, but he'd never had a secret quite like this one. He could justify everything else as being need to know, none of his business, but… well. It was a shame it came to this. It was a shame this was the only way to keep his family safe.
When Red walked out of the Post Office that afternoon, he had a brand new agreement freshly signed and filed away, and he had laid the groundwork for what would be his cover story for however long this new mission would last.
Such a simple task on the surface, especially with Cooper so willing to carve out special allowances for the sake of the profound nature of Red's loss and the profound importance of completing The Blacklist, but it was a supremely draining task, nonetheless.
Keeping his newfound happiness buried beneath layers of manufactured despair—despair that had in fact been genuine not so long ago—would be taxing, to say the least. All the more reason to work as hard as possible to finally bring this chapter to a close as quickly as he could.
Dembe was waiting for him outside the car when Red reached it.
"How did it go?" Dembe asked.
"About as well as it could go." Red took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I need to clear my head."
"Where would you like me to take you?"
"Anywhere but here."
