Merci for all your encouraging review and alerts. I do hope you find this chapter enjoyable. Let me know. :) I find it a struggle writing this but I hope it isn't terrible and that it makes sense. I know my grammar probably isn't the best in the world, but I hope it makes sense.
Chapter Seven
Liz patted herself mentally on the back for accomplishing in intimidating their lead. He had finally broke down and confessed, giving her the whereabouts of Number 69 on Red's list. She excused herself from the man, Roger; who was still shaken up from the entire incident and as she closed the door on him and stepped through the hallway to make a start on revealing to both Ressler and Cooper that he had given her Number 69's current residential address, she stopped stock-still when she heard voices in the other room. Don. Cooper.
Cooper usually sat in the other room, supervising while questioning went on and making sure everything didn't get well out of hand, but she was shocked to hear a voice she wasn't expecting to hear in the room Cooper usually occupied. It was not a voice she was ready to hear in person, no less feel up to being in close proximity to the owner of it.
Reddington. Reddington was with them now as well.
"She had this gorgeous yellow-and-blue dolphin," she heard him chuckling loudly all the way from where she was standing in the corridor, "There was this glorious little yellow-and-blue dolphin tattooed right above her ass. Oh hell, it was marvellous! Utterly unexpected."
Whose tattoo was Reddington speaking of in particular? It was Liz's tattoo, of course, no question about it.
During her early college days when she had turned nineteen, Liz had gone through a rebellious state and with a friend, they decided to get matching tattoos as a bit of harmless fun. Unimaginative as it was, the two of them had decided on getting a cartoon dolphin on their back, and the only person Liz thought knew about it, was just her husband. He had inevitably seen it while they were being intimate and she had taken all of her clothes off. Now, apparently, Red knew about it, too.
The fact he now did was not something she felt too good about. The tattoo was a lousy and cheap job, she knew. It had only taken over thirty minutes for the artist to complete, and it had only cost her ninety bucks at the time. She often had felt relieved that only Tom knew about it- because it had been incredibly stupid of her, getting a tattoo out on a whim, and she didn't want many people knowing of it.
But now, thanks to Reddington's big mouth, that was probably no such luck. He was obviously having a field day in retelling the story to Don and her boss about her tattoo.
Why was he hell-bent on ruining her and making her life a living-breathing hell? Was that why he surrendered himself to the FBI in the first place? Mission: Torment Elizabeth Keen until she's driven insane.
Her hands shook as she clenched them and she braced herself to enter the room. She made sure she gave no acknowledgement of Red's presence as she paused and straightened her blouse out, before entering. Cooper and Don were leaning against the table, arms crossed over their chests, fixing their gaze on her. She knew her heels had announced her. She couldn't be sure whether Red had told them which body the dolphin tattoo belonged to in particular; They both looked as they always did. Cooper; stern and professional. Don; slightly impressed with his fair eyebrows raised at her.
"Roger finally confessed," she explained, feeling Red's eyes on her skin. "He knows where he is, Sir." She made herself look at Cooper, disregarding the outline of the man slowly nearing her at a seemingly deliberate and casual rate. "Now that he has given us his most recent location, I think we should get a move on and bring him in before he makes a move himself."
"Yes," Cooper agreed, smiling slightly. "That's probably a wise plan."
"Bravo, Agent Keen," Red spoke up from near her side, as if his praise actually meant something to her. If there was one thing she had learned about Red, from the very beginning, it was that he liked to be the main focus in the room. He liked being the man everyone paid attention to, most of all Liz. He literally demanded it, with all his theatrics and intelligent remarks and, like a loyal puppy dog, she couldn't help but be sucked in and listen to his words attentively. But today, however, she was wholly determined on not giving him that satisfaction. "I give that little performance a 10 out of 10, very impressive. Hell, it was even better than a lap-dance."
Trust him to comment and say something completely irrelevant, not to mention inappropriate, she thought to herself bitterly. She caught herself wondering, completely out of the blue, just how many lap-dances he had had over the years. Er, not that she cared or anything. Then she shook her head slightly and tried to refocus on the task at hand. Trust Red to distract her.
"Don, let's get moving," she said to Ressler meaningfully, ignoring the irritating man. She was not going to give him the time of day. No siree!
She was hell-bent on avoiding him, until maybe he found it annoying and became pissed off enough to give her some up to par answers on what had actually happened between them when she slept in his hotel room last night. Ressler pushed off the table and stood, disposing of his coffee cup quickly, and he strode out of the room.
Sending a curt nod her bosses way, Liz turned to follow right after him, setting her chin and quickening her steps.
She had only just gripped the railing with her hand tightly to walk down the steel staircase towards the elevator when it occurred to her that Red was following her. One look behind her shoulder and that was all she needed to know, when she saw his polished brown loafers as he treaded down the steps as well. The center of her forehead began to pound and pulsate. How did he possibly know about her dolphin tattoo? She knew there probably wasn't much he did not know about her, being as obsessed with her as he clearly was. But him knowing of her tattoo in a particularly private and personal place? What? How? When?
Not once in her right mind would she have willingly shown anyone her tattoo, least of all Raymond Reddington. It was disturbing, the very thought.
Her cheeks flared up with chagrin as it belatedly came to her again. Of course! The game of strip poker last night. That had definitely explained it. She had kind of naïvely been hoping Red was pulling her leg about that, but now she knew otherwise. They indeed had played strip poker last night- her, Red and Dembe. He had spotted her dolphin tattoo on the lower part of her back, probably whilst she was senselessly pulling her shirt off.
Those chocolate brownies that Dembe had made that she had eaten must have been lethal. Obviously all of her previous inhibitions had been washed away completely. Who knows what else she could have possibly gotten up to last night while under the effects of the drug cannabis?
When did the lines become so blurred between them? Now, here she was, learning of the escapades they had gotten up to last night.
Evidently, it was the hugest mistake she could have possibly made, in preferring to stay with Red in his hotel room rather than having to risk enduring being near Tom. If only she had gone straight home. She wouldn't have been trapped in this confusing and incredibly frustrating situation that she found herself in now. This was obviously the way Reddington operated; He wouldn't tell her things, because he wanted her to figure them out all on her own. But goddamn it, if she didn't wish he could just be straightforward with her for once in his miserable life...
How could she have been so stupid?
While she knew she had only just been in an emotionally fragile state from learning the true magnitude of her husbands deception... and it had ripped apart and put everything she had once believed about her safe and comfortable marriage into shambles... she still ought to have known better than to insist on staying in Reddington's hotel room last night.
But she was only human, she tried to justify her actions with mentally, and humans make mistakes once in a while.
She needed comfort and someone to reach out to- and Reddington had insisted and always proved that he would be there for her, no matter what. She could trust him. Trust in that he would never lie to her. And that everything was going to work itself out just fine.
All in all, there was two things she had learned from this experience.
One: Never play sleep over with a criminal. It tends to get a little crazy, and you'll wake up in the morning with patchy memory into what had happened the night before.
And, two: Never eat anything in a criminal's hotel room, no matter how tempting and appetizing it may look. Criminals are naturally self-aggrandizing. Therefore, they assume not all rules apply to them. They are living under some misguided notion that they are impenetrable, and that any illicit drug-taking is legal for them.
"We should go out to dinner tonight, Lizzie," she heard Reddington dare to suggest casually from behind her. She could hear his footfalls as she strode briskly to the elevator and she knew he was right behind her on her tail.
Despite her full intentions to ignore him, she accidentally slipped up, her annoyance at him getting the better of her. "Why would I wanna go out to dinner with you?"
"I think that would be fun, wouldn't you agree? You certainly seemed to enjoy my company last night. Let's do that again!"
"I was high on cannabis, thanks to Dembe's brownies," she reminded him tartly, not without some fresh anger building to the surface. She felt a sudden, vindictive urge to insult him, so with her next ammunition picked, she added in the heat of the moment, "It's really no wonder I was smiling so much last night, like you said. I was high. Your company had nothing at all to do with my happiness last night. Being high must be what it takes to stand being around you, because God knows I can't stand being near you right now."
When they finally reached the elevator and the mechanical doors lifted, she hesitated before stepping in with him. Last thing she wanted was to be in a confined space with Reddington, but really, she had no choice. She let herself peek in his direction for one second, while she jammed her finger against the button; He gave no outwards sign that her remark had wounded him deep down on some personal level. He was holding his hat in his left hand, while his head was tilted slightly to the side. He was eyeing her contemplatively and, when she roamed her eyes down to his vest, she saw that the yellow stain from this morning from when she had made him spill his soup on it was still there.
Feeling sickly satisfied and pleased with herself, she turned away from him, facing forward. It was so much easier not to feel tempted to do something to him when she was ignoring him.
"We could celebrate," he went on, after a moment, as if he hadn't heard her cutting snide.
"Oh, yeah?" She turned and met his eyes. "Celebrate what?"
His eyes went in a triangle motion, changing between peering into her eyes and then her mouth. Her lips. Liz was more than aware that when she tended to look at him, her eyes did the same thing. She wasn't entirely sure why, but usually it was just her that had that habit with him. But when his green eyes lingered on her lips and his own parted, it was unnervingly brought to her attention that things had definitely changed between them. She wasn't sure how or why but... it was something. He was different to her, not in any glaringly obvious way she could figure out. But then again, maybe it was all just in her head. Maybe this was simply just paranoia at work?
But he had kissed her, two times this morning. So there was hardly anything passionate or sexual about those kisses; They were just harmless ones; on her scarred wrist, and then, prolonged, on her cheek. Usually he didn't do that; He usually kept his distance, and so did she. Evidently something must have happened last night. Something had happened between them. She mightn't recall what that certain something was, but there was no denying he was acting different.
"Your success in now becoming a fully fledged, competent FBI Agent. Let's make it a date."
"Oh, what a shame," she huffed out sarcastically, moving closer to the wall. "Can't. I'm all booked out tonight. Unlike some people, I have to go home and keep house to my lying, deceitful husband. I can't not go home two nights in a row."
"Wow. What crawled up your ass and died?"
"You know, I really don't have the time for this," she sighed heavily. "I'm not going to stand here and waste time with you."
"Escargot."
"What?" she muttered, unimpressed.
"Escargot."
"What does snails have to do with any of this? Are you saying this guy-"
"Have you tried them? I know this perfect little French restaurant in the Baltimore area that-"
"-No, I have no interest whatsoever in eating snails with you, but thanks." When the elevator finally reached ground floor and opened, she was out of there like a rocket. "Next time I feel the urge to try cooked snails and fried frogs legs, you'll be the first one I'll call. Now if you'll excuse me."
When she got outside, she found Agent Ressler waiting for her out in their sanctioned vehicle. He wound down the tinted window and made a gesture with his hand and she said not a single word more to Red, no less spared him even a last quick glance as she strutted over towards the vehicle and climbed in. She buckled herself in and Ressler started the SUV up, making a start to the location of the next Blacklister that their lead, Roger Altman, had confessed to her.
Liz wasn't completely present in the car while Ressler drove; She was stressing over what might have happened between Red and herself last night. God, why wouldn't he just tell her already? Was this just another game to him? If he enjoyed aggravating her this much, then clearly he was every bit the delusional, sick and twisted man she believed he was. A sick and twisted man with the rare occasional sweet moment where she could tolerate him.
Goddamn it, she thought, clenching her teeth while turning her eyes to the scenery outside the window. She felt troubled, and just as in equal amounts nauseous; A feeling she had continuously felt all morning ever since waking in Red's hotel room bed. Goddamn him and his mind games. What was he playing at, really?
"Okay, so what's the deal?" Ressler suddenly spoke up from behind the steering wheel, invading in on her thoughts.
She turned to glance over at him. He was already watching her, his light blue eyes slitted thoughtfully. "What? We've done this over eight times now. I'm sure you've familiarized yourself with all the procedural-"
"No, not about this," he interrupted her quickly. "Something's wrong. Something's up with you today. What's going on?"
"Nothing." She knew better than to lie when Ressler raised his eyebrows at her. Obviously he wasn't going to believe it, not today. She shrugged and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Okay, so maybe something is wrong." Her smile faltered on her lips and she peered back outside the window again.
"Is something going on at home? With your husband, I mean?"
Like you couldn't imagine, she thought. My husband isn't who I thought he was... He planted himself into my life on purpose.
"Tom and I are fighting, yes," she said hesitatingly. "We're just going through a rough patch. That's it."
"And Reddington?" Her head whipped over in Ressler's direction at the name. "Where does he fit in with all of this?"
"He's... driving me crazy more than usual. God, just hearing his name aloud..." She trembled in her seat and Ressler laughed softly.
"Look, believe it or not, you're not the only one who goes through these things. And Reddington; I know he can be a real pain in the ass. If anyone knows how annoying and self-righteous he can be, then it'd be me, I know exactly how you feel. But something's really different about you. Did something happen?"
God, since when was Ressler so observant?
"Tom and I, we had an argument last night," she began, phrasing her words with care. "I didn't know where else to go, so I went to Red. I stayed in his hotel room the full night." She couldn't endure seeing the expression on Ressler's face, so she focused on his cobalt blue tie and the white collars of his shirt instead. "Funny thing is, I woke up this morning and I... I have no idea what happened last night. I mean, I remember certain things, but I don't... I just don't know what happened between us. He's not telling me, either. I think he is keeping something from me." Ressler made a surprised grunting noise, and she lifted her eyes reluctantly. His mouth was agape, his eyes squinting at her through the sunlight streaming in through the windshield. "It was a huge mistake, and it was an unprofessional one. It won't be happening again. I've learned my lesson."
"You think you and him might have, uh, you know?" He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away from her. He hissed, as if talking about such a thing was so scandalous, "Done it with each other? Had sex?"
"Thing is, I don't even know the answer to that." She forced out a pitiful laugh. "I don't know. And that's what ultimately scares me."
Confiding in Ressler, she found, was liberating. It also made her learn something else; The thought of her and Reddington actually having sex, it didn't repulse her like she thought it would. It was just the not remembering it part that was grating on her nerves. The fact that Red wouldn't just be straight-up with her was a contributing factor to her irritation as well.
I do hope you enjoyed this one. It is probably more serious in tone than the previous chapters, but I hope you don't mind that. As per usual, your thoughts and reviews are most welcome and appreciated.