AN: We've arrived at the good part, guys! At least, it's what I HOPE you'll consider the good part. SUPER SECRETARY-FIED STUFF, here, but it's SFW. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading! BTW, there will be one more chapter, and it will be allllll kinds of smutty. :D
I own NOTHING, but I love it all as if it were my own.
-...-...-
Chapter Six
What exactly was she up to? Red lifted one hand to reach for The Fulcrum, but stopped himself halfway as Lizzie's instructions echoed in his mind.
"Put both of your hands on the desk, palms down. Keep both of your feet on the floor until I come back."
"Until I come back."
"Until I come back."
"Until I come back."
How long?
His eyes circled the walls and ceiling in search of the facility's surveillance cameras. On an A/C vent in the back left corner, he spied a blinking red light. Red frowned, working his jaw in disapproval. Just the one? And so poorly hidden, too. Facing the door, it was in the best spot, but any crook can keep their face hidden from a single camera.
With a sigh, he silently vowed to redouble his efforts to convince Lizzie to move into the Audrey apartment. Then, she'd be able to ditch the dreary storage locker. Surely she'd see the wisdom in having a security system installed. If Red had his way, he'd take care of it himself, but that was an offer he had to resist making, lest it draw another round of her ire.
Well, she never said that he wasn't allowed to examine, or even touch The Fulcrum. He slid both hands forward, secured it between his pinkies, and pulled it closer to himself. Leaning forward, he inspected it up close.
Such a clever little device!
Sleek.
Shiny.
Compact.
If objectaphilia could have been counted among Red's myriad fetishes, he'd call it sexy as well.
The sudden screeching of the locker door being opened pulled Red from his reverie. He bolted upright to see Dembe's eyes instantly locked onto his own.
"Raymond? I just spoke with Agent Keen. She informed me that you'll be here awhile."
Red nodded slowly, a toothy grin spanning his cheeks "Did she? And did she happen to say how long?"
He shook his head and frowned. "No... She told me to ask you."
Red burst into raucous peels of laughter. Was there anything better than a challenging mystery? And to sit at its very center? What fun!
His longtime companion wasn't amused. "What's going on? Have you already told her?"
"Oh, heavens no! I'm still working on that, and I think you'd know if I had."
"So... what, what is this?"
Red recounted the previous ten minutes in great detail, struggling against the urge to gesticulate.
"Then she's... testing you? Punishing you?"
Red shrugged his shoulders and canted his head. "Both, perhaps. The two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive."
"Hm. The Fulcrum. May I see it?"
"By all means."
Dembe held out his hand expectantly, but Red only stared at it, suppressing a smirk. Three awkward seconds ticked by before he used his pinkies again to push it forward.
"Oh. Right." After briefly inspecting the object, he asked, "What would you like me to do with it?"
"Put it anywhere but the safe deposit box in Istanbul," Red chortled, earning an exasperated huff from his friend. "Sorry, I jest. I'd prefer to handle the matter personally."
"But if you don't know how long you'll be here..." Dembe trailed off.
"You're concerned for my safety. I appreciate that." He didn't bother to reiterate his preference, knowing that Dembe wouldn't attempt to argue.
"Your fossilized ivory chess set is in the car. Shall we play? I can move the pieces for you."
Red pressed his lips together in contemplation. "No, thank you. How about you just go pick up some Indian take-out and retire to the safehouse for the night?"
"No," he replied shortly.
"Oh please. I could be here all night. The door has a lock. I have my Colt 45."
"It'll be hard to shoot without using your hands."
"Nonsense! I can unload my gun without using my hands. I do it all the time."
Dembe stared back at him blankly.
Always steady.
Never shocked or distracted by Red's constant innuendo, which was apparently unfinished.
"In fact, when Lizzie returns, I'm confident that I'll be doing exactly that. Please don't take offense, but I suspect that she wouldn't be comfortable with including you, even if you're only doing target practice on the other side of the room." His eyes seemed to shimmer and dance with delight in himself.
Dembe's gaze narrowed, perfectly unperturbed. "Look, Raymond. I'll get the Indian takeout, but I'm bringing it back here for us. How does Rasika sound?"
"It sounds hard to eat without using my hands..." he trailed off, a smirk blooming slowly upon his lips. "Actually, I've been tied up so many times that I'm highly proficient at getting the job done with only my mouth."
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Not taking the bait.
"K, I'll be back soon, and I'll hand-feed you if necessary."
"Only if you promise to make the airplane noises!"
"Deal," Dembe replied, barely loud enough to be heard over the screeching door.
-...-...-
Back in her motel room, Liz suddenly thought of another person to help her out with this bizarre game. She flipped through her secret, self-compiled dossier on Reddington, in search of a phone number. When she finally found it, Liz hit the pavement once more to buy another burner phone.
In the store parking lot, after charging the burner in her car for a few minutes, she dialed the number, praying that it hadn't been disconnected yet.
Good fortune seemed to smile upon her.
"Hello, this is Agent Elizabeth Keen, FBI. I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm ho-"
The other party interrupted, "Don't play dumb. Of COURSE I remember you."
Yes, of course
she does.
-...-...-
While killing time in the restaurant waiting area, Red's phone chirped to life in Dembe's pocket.
Kate Kaplan.
"Mr. Kaplan," he answered smoothly, "How may I help you?"
"Where can I find him?" They needed no disambiguation for the non-specific pronoun. There could only ever be one 'him'. "I have an extremely urgent matter to discuss. It's about the harbormaster."
"It's always something, isn't it? Well... right now, I'm getting Indian takeout for dinner. We'd be delighted to have you join us."
"I'm afraid that depends... is it Rasika? If so, did you at least order two of the Number Four platters? It's the paneer masala, if I'm not mistaken. Otherwise, we won't get any peas. Raymond always hogs them all."
"Yes and yes, I know. He doesn't even call it by its actual name. He likes to call it 'the number four peas platter.' The paneer is my favorite part, so I don't mind."
Dembe went on to give Mr. Kaplan the storage facility's address and Liz's locker number. "The door will be locked. You'll have to either wait for me to get there, or pick it. I should be there in about fifteen minutes."
"If Raymond is there, dearie, then why can't he let me in?"
Fishy.
"He's presently unable access the lock."
Artfully nebulous.
"Well, if you don't mind, I'm just going to pretend that I understand what you meant by that."
Dembe shrugged as if she could see his movement. "Don't worry. You will."
-...-...-
I want to hold the hand inside you
I want to take a breath that's true
I look to you and I see nothing
I look to you to see the truth
You live your life
You go in shadows
You'll come apart and you'll go blind
Some kind of light into your darkness
Colors your eyes with what's not there
[Fade into You - Mazzy Star]
-...-...-
When Dembe returned with the comically-huge takeout bag, Mr. Kaplan was already there. She snuffed out her cigarette and exited the car, meeting Dembe's grin with a slightly-pinched smile of her own. "Where's Agent Keen? Isn't this where she keeps her stuff?"
"It is, but she isn't here."
She nodded but didn't comment further, watching as Dembe unlocked the door. They winced in tandem at its terrible screech.
"Mr. Kaplan! What a pleasant surprise," Red crowed.
Her loafers clicked along the smooth concrete floor as she made her way over to give him a hearty hug and a quick kiss on the top of his head. She pulled back frowning at his hands. "What am I, chopped liver?"
"Never that, Kate. No."
She briefly waited for an explanation, but after a few seconds, decided to just move along instead.
"Here," Dembe said, holding out a little folded box with a fork.
She smiled and thanked him before turning back towards Red and placing the box and fork in front of him. "We brought you some peas."
As she headed towards a metal folding chair propped against the wall, Dembe jumped up and lunged in her direction, beating her to her destination. "Please, take my seat."
She smiled and thanked him before plating a little of everything from the takeout bag. As she sat and looked over at Red, he noted the tension at the corners of her eyes. "Raymond I'm afraid that I've arrived under less than favorable circumstances."
"What is it?"
"They've found a shell casing from Agent Keen's service gun on the ship."
Agog, Red's fingers began to curl and he quickly flattened them on the desk again. "Did you miss it somehow? That's very unlike you."
"Either that or it was planted after the fact. I intend to find out. Raymond, I'm sorry."
He nodded slowly, absorbing both the information and its implications, and a silence fell over the room, broken only by the sounds of herself and Dembe chewing.
"I'm not swallowing that. You're not doing the airplane sound. You promised!" Red whined.
Mr. Kaplan glanced up to see Dembe holding a spoonful of peas in front of Red, who was recalcitrantly shaking his head.
What the hell?
"How about a choo-choo train?" Dembe replied, laughing.
Red pursed his lips in mock contemplation. "Only if it's a steam engine. None of that electric crap!"
"That goes without saying."
He rolled his eyes. "One can never be too careful."
If either of them were aware of Mr. Kaplan's nonplussed staring, they didn't let on. She watched while Dembe patiently fed five spoonfuls to Raymond as if he were a baby in a highchair. When Dembe resumed with feeding himself, she gave up and addressed the crimson elephant in the room. "Raymond, what's the deal with your hands? Did you lose a bet?"
He looked at her as if she'd spoken with a forked tongue, and then began to laugh. When her scowl didn't soften quickly enough for Red's liking, he caved and explained.
After he finished, Mr. Kaplan glibly commented, "That's an interesting approach to conflict resolution."
Red smirked.
"It really takes all kinds, doesn't it?"
"You already knew that."
"Well yes, but it's like a twist on bondage. You aren't physically bound, and yet you are bound just the same, because you want to be. In many ways, it's you holding the power. The entire time, however long it takes, staying there is an active, conscious decision on your part."
"Yes," Red agreed, and then opened his mouth for another bite.
"There's actually a long history of such acts firmly rooted in catholicism."
"You know, Kate, I've always wondered why an atheist would have a degree in religious global history. Is it for leverage in arguments about religious ethics and ideology?"
"Bah. First of all, that's only one of six degrees, three of which are doctorates of medicine. Second, you're over-selling your curiosity, but if you're only doing so to express admiration, I'll let it slide."
"You got me." Red shrugged sheepishly.
"So, back to this hands situation. Who's to say love needs to be soft and gentle, anyway? Your soul and your body belong to you alone, and are yours to do with as you wish."
"Hah! We certainly wouldn't."
"I really need to stop discussing my sex life with you..." she trailed off wryly.
"Pshh... Dembe, how are things progressing with Agent Navabi?" Red tilted his head and waggled his eyebrows.
"A gentleman never tells," he chided, sporting an unusually smug grin that said it all in perfect silence.
"Fine," Red huffed. "We have more important matters to discuss anyhow. The shell casing. Do we know where it is, right now?"
"Metro PD, Indiana Avenue."
"We'll need to interfere with either the lab work or the chain of custody in order to make it inadmissable in court."
"Dembe, reach out to Dunham Murphy at Metro PD. Unfortunately, it's been at least a decade since I last utilized his services, so he may need some coaxing. Last I heard, his wife was in the process of becoming his husband. Perhaps they'd like a meeting with Dr. Piper to discuss pro bono services to ease the transition. He still owes me for Nepal."
"Do you have a back up offer?" Dembe asked. "Suppose the transition is already complete."
"If he wants to avoid gynocomastia, he'll need to take hormones for the rest of his life. We'll include a free lifetime supply with Piper's services. On their income, that's an offer they can't refuse."
"But if they can't or won't do it, we're just gonna boost it, right?"
Red sighed. "Let's just make that our final option. If it's gone, we can't use it to frame someone a little more deserving. Maybe we should look for Tom... or Madeline Pratt." He physically squirmed at the very thought.
Mr. Kaplan nodded thoughtfully. "Blech... Isn't that woman still vying for your seed, Ray?"
He shuddered.
Could she have chosen a more disgusting way to phrase that?
In retaliation, Red donned his most intimidating glare, craning his head around to bore holes into her eyes. Kaplan was predictably unfazed. "I don't think it's a good time to invite that woman back into my life... in any capacity. I need to be more careful with Lizzie."
"I understand where you're coming from, but I wouldn't rule her out entirely."
Dembe shook his head. "We may have to do exactly that. Raymond is working up the courage to finally level with Agent Keen."
Level? Her interest piqued. "My instinct is to tell you that you should have already done that months ago, but I won't."
It didn't escape Red that she was in fact saying exactly that, but also trying to do so gently. He let it slide.
Still wary of leaving Red alone, despite their success with dinner, Dembe spoke up and jumped on the task, "Alright, I'll go pay Murphy a visit."
"Please do." He swiveled his chair ten degrees, towards Mr. Kaplan. "Just say it, Kate. I know that look."
"You're a stubborn man, Ray. You'd sit like this for a week, if she made you, but-"
"Much longer," he interrupted.
"Exactly. But Agent Keen probably doesn't know about the new evidence against her. If you need to personally become involved in suppressing the evidence, don't cut it too close. Don't get yourself in trouble by waiting too long."
"Hah. I shouldn't have asked."
She stood up and hugged him again, and Red turned to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. On her way out, she paused in the doorway. "I hope you're at least willing to get up to use the restroom. Keep a little dignity, dearie."
Red laughed. "I haven't decided."
-...-...-...
"Fifty-seven bottles of beer
on the wall... fifty-seven bottles of beer... ugh. Room temperature beer? Unless the wall is refrigerated, like Jacques' in Sarajevo..."
Red's head snapped up at the sound of the screeching door, which had only been pushed open a couple of inches, still effectively blocking the intruder. "Lizzie?" His heart pounded.
With a louder screech, it flew open completely.
Red sighed, his shoulders slumping visibly. "Oh. It's you."
Madeline. Fucking. Pratt.
Apparently Mr. Kaplan didn't lock the door on her way out. Red suddenly realized that she really was getting sloppy, but he presently had no time to address it.
Madeline removed her sunglasses and rested them atop her head, like a headband. Her nose scrunched as she eyed her surroundings in displeasure.
While she was distracted by her self-appointed role of 'Judgemental Elitist Twat', Red secured The Fulcrum between his pinkies and pulled it all the way to the edge of the desk, letting it fall off and into his lap. He shifted himself just enough to let it slip between his thighs, safely hidden from her prying eyes.
"What... are you...? What are you doing? I don't know what the deal is with..."
A real wordsmith, that woman.
"I'm sorry. I have to ask you to leave."
"I just flew here from New York. I'm your girlfriend, Raymond!"
Now this, THIS was definitely a test. Lizzie had to have called her. He swung his head around to shoot a grin at the camera, but flattened his expression before turning his gaze back towards Maddie.
"And you're trespassing. You are making an unwarranted, gradual or stealthy entrance into the sphere of another."
Her mouth dropped, dumbfounded. "Okay Raymond, look... Are you doing something sexual right now?"
Red smirked. "Does this look sexual to you?"
"I don't know. EVERYTHING looks sexual to you! Why won't you move your hands?"
"Hm? Because I don't want to. Madeline, I'm sorry, but I don't want you. I would have thought that was understood after Florence. Now, get out."
She starred at him, her mouth agog.
"Get. Out."
She grabbed the back of the chair and tried to pull him away, but Red reflexively widened his knees under the desk, effectively locking himself in place.
"You son of a bitch! It's HER isn't it?"
Red pursed his lips. "It's... fate."
He gave her a moment to think of a witty comeback. Upon failure, his expression softened, and he went on to tell her, "I'm so sorry for what happened between us, Madeline. I realize what a terrible mistake I made with you, and I can only hope that you understand. Be assured, you can count on me for excellent references to my clients. Otherwise, you'll regret walking me into a corner like this. Get out."
He could have stood to veil that a little more thickly.
When the scorned woman slammed the door behind her, he swung his head around once more to stare into the camera's lens, unblinking, for several long minutes.
Smug, even.
So certain was he that he'd just passed a test, and that Lizzie was on her way.
-...-...-...
Meanwhile...
Liz and a telephone.
She paced and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was such an awful means to confront someone about a serious matter.
Girlfriends and wives, most of all.
"Don't play dumb. Of COURSE I remember you."
Yes, of course
she does.
"Right, well... I need a favor. Red's barricaded himself inside a local storage unit. As I'm sure you've already surmised, he's unwilling to reveal his motives. We've all tried and failed to talk him into coming out."
"Shocking..."
"I'm hoping that you can find it in your heart to come and give it a try, if not for him, then perhaps for me, you know... one center of the universe to another."
"I'm not exactly feeling charitable towards either of you."
"Listen Naomi, or uh, Carla? I'm sure that we can come to an agreement about worthwhile compensation for your effort."
"No, you can't. You really can't. Twenty-something years ago, when it didn't work out between us, that was IT. I let him slip through my fingers, but I too had my reasons."
"Any chance I could convince you to divulge that story?"
"Nice try, but no."
Liz groaned in frustration.
"However, I do admire you in some ways, Agent Keen. Without question, Raymond is the most isolated man I've ever known. For as long as he's had you on his mind though, I'd implore you to make every effort to persevere."
Liz wasn't at all in the mood for this discussion. "That's exactly what I'm doing. Please call me on this number if you change your mind." Too bad. Seemed she'd have to hang on to the burner cell.
She tossed it onto her bed and booted up her laptop, massaging her temples. She then accessed the website for her storage unit, logging in to view the video feed for both the halls and the inside of her locker.
Ah, modern technology...
It certainly wasn't the greatest view, but she could make out Red's face. He was bent over the desktop, studying The Fulcrum up close, in awe.
Upon the arrival of Dembe and Mr. Kaplan, Liz nearly laughed out loud. He didn't even hug her back!
Clearly he was taking her request seriously.
Adorable.
Alas, if only she had audio accompaniment...
The scene quickly went from amusing to sweet, and then to hilarious. DEMBE WAS SPOONFEEDING RED.
Every now and then, he'd swing his head around to stare at the camera. He knew that she was watching.
Of course he did.
When Dembe and Mr. Kaplan left, Liz felt a little disappointed, and guilty as well. No doubt he was bored already. She hoped that he he wasn't lonely.
Her worry vanished when the door opened and she saw that Madeline Pratt had taken the bait. Oh, this could be good!
Or bad. Fuck. It could be very bad.
It won't be. Will it?
She laughed out loud as Red hastily slipped The Fulcrum out of her line of sight. Smart, darling. Very smart.
They seemed to be arguing. Red's fingers flexed on the desktop, his jaw visibly stiffened. Her poor baby was really fighting not to move them. God, to be a fly on the wall in there...
Lizzie was grinning from ear to ear by the time Madeline stormed out.
"Red, I'm very fond of you as well..."