Thank you guys so much for your alerts and reviews. They mean the world to me. I do hope you enjoy this one, it's been fun writing this. I just hope it isn't terribly written :p

I don't own the Blacklist.

And all mistakes, etc, are mine.

Chapter Two

Sam lay in his terribly uncomfortable bed, when he heard his daughter get in quietly.

She stood by the entryway into his room for a moment, taking in a deep breath to prepare herself. It was always like this, when she got home; She was never quite sure of what she would be coming home to, when it came to her father.

Her daddy Sam had been struck with a terrible virus months ago, and he hadn't recovered from the illness since. He spent most of his days in bed, not having the energy to do much anymore. It was why Liz threw herself into working the way she had; They had bills to pay, supper to put onto the table, and with her father sick in bed all day, it meant that Liz had to quickly adopt the role as main provider. She knew other families had it plenty worse, though, so she counted herself lucky. She was thankful for every day that her father made it through. The illness didn't want to leave him and his body was probably shutting down on him.

"Oh, honey," he whispered at the sight of her in the red dress Ellie let her borrow, his eyes gleaming with tears at the corners.

"Hey Daddy," she replied gently. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling just fine. You know me; I have my bad days and my good days." He tried to sit up against the pillows and the bed-frame to get a better look at her, but his body did not seem to want to cooperate with him. Just a simple movement such as sitting up made him feel exhausted and drained. There were times Elizabeth reminded him of her mother; In a red dress and with her hair out, it was another one of those times. He felt his heart seize as if someone had wrapped a hand around it and clenched it tight. "You look more and more like your mother each passing day, honey. You look beautiful."

"Thanks. Ellie let me borrow it."

"Did you have a nice time out tonight?"

Liz didn't want to seem too enthusiastic about how good a time she had out tonight; particularly the part about dancing with an older gentleman who she found so very interesting. Especially not with her father sick and confined to bed the way he was. She felt it was selfish of her, to be going out and having a fun time while her father had no choice but to stay in bed.

"It was just fine," she answered simply, echoing his words. "We had to cut it early, though. The police raided the area."

Sam sat up a bit higher against the pillows, eyeing her with interest. A lock of his fringe fell into his forehead, sticking to the beads of sweat. "Did they give a reason why they did that?"

"Apparently they were looking for a group of men, Daddy," she answered, with an uncertain shrug. "I'm not sure why. They never said much; They just looked around, asking people questions, so Ellie and I decided to leave early." She came towards him, leaning down to kiss him on his cheek. She tried not to pay any attention to how hot and fevered his skin felt. Or notice the soiled and stained undershirt. The dark bags and lines under his eyes. "I'm gonna get to bed now, all right? I have to be working early tomorrow. Is there anything you need before I do?"

"No, sweetie pie. Get a good night's sleep."

Once she got into her bedwear and slid under the bed sheets in her room, Liz found sleeping wasn't going to come to her easily tonight. She rolled on her back, staring up at the moldy and cracked ceiling above her. For some reason, she found herself thinking about the fellow she had met and danced with tonight, Red- or Ray. Maybe his name wasn't even really either Red or Ray? Maybe he made the whole thing up to fool her. She couldn't think up any good reason somebody would lie about their name, though.

Something sure was different about him; Something she could not put her finger on.

She hadn't thought that much of it at the time, while being in the present moment with him, but he had definitely seemed to be evading answering any personal questions about himself. As if he was hiding something.

His evasiveness on her questions aside, she knew beyond any level of doubt that he was a man with an abundance of money; The dapper dress sense and the company he associated with around the table tipped that off. She thought back to the way he had stared at her from his table, the penetrating look he gave her which made her feel as if he was seeing straight inside, rather than just the outside of her. Charming and handsome as the devil himself, that was what he was in her eyes.

She hadn't met a man like him before, and yet, she didn't even know what type of man he was to begin with. But there was definitely something there...

She knew it was pointless, thinking about a man and trying to work him out when she knew it was unlikely she would see him again. He had already said his farewells, he thanked her graciously for the dance and the chat, and then that was that. He did not ask for her permission to see her again or to become better acquainted with her.

It was a one-time thing.

And Liz had never been the type of woman to fantasize about a man coming into her life and making it easier. She should stop thinking about him, and wondering. Yet, why was she there, laying in her bed, unable to?

XXXX

The next morning at the Steuben Club, where she worked, it was full and bursting with people. The minute she thought she was finished and could catch a break to herself, the next person popped up and appeared. It was always the same; She'd take their coat, hat, or bag, store it away, and hand them a numbered ticket so that they could return for their belongings in exchange for the ticket. Sometimes they offered her a generous tip in return, but this was a rarity for her.

It was the same song and dance, every time:

"Good evening, may I check your coat?"

The job as a coat check girl was hardly anything Liz would have called demanding or interesting, but she had to make do with what she could get. She had no right to complain or make a loud fuss about how much of a bore the job was, unless she wanted to lose it; Something she could not afford to happen to her, especially not in these hard times and with her father sick the way he was. She was guilty of daydreaming on the job more times than she could count, but it helped her get through the evening until she could go home.

By 10.30 in the evening came, she was feeling exhausted and hardly in the mood to socialize. It didn't help that she was expected to act gregarious and cheerful when greeting customers. She kept throwing looks outside of the entrance, watching the view of the outside of the club get darker and darker through the double doors. Despite the late hours, handful after handful of men and women were standing around, talking loudly among themselves and smoking.

A man wearing an expensive suit cut through her vision, she took his coat for him, and just as she was turning back to hand him his ticket, her eyes were drawn to the man suddenly standing next to him. She felt her breath hitch in her throat and the blood rush to her head as it slowly dawned onto her that Red, the fellow she had shared a pleasant dance with just last evening, was standing at the laminate counter, calmly waiting to get his coat checked as well.

She swallowed against a lump that had formed in her throat and gave the other man her attention instead, handing him his ticket and forcibly smiling. She had no idea in the slightest what Red- or Ray- was doing at her place of employment. Could it have been a mere coincidence?

She had to interlace her fingers in front of her tightly to squash the temptation she felt to reach over and touch him, make sure he was really there in the flesh and not just a mere wish on her part. She watched as his slate-colored eyes took in the clothes she was wearing; The cardigan, blouse, and wrap skirt that made up her uniform. Somehow she had forgotten how intense his gaze could be, and it took her a beat to get over the unexpected shock of seeing him again.

Back to rights, she cleared her throat gently, before whispering unthinkingly, "What are you doing here? Are you following me now?"

When he finally met her eyes, he gave her a quick closed-lipped smile. "Hello, Lizzie." She had also forgotten how wonderful his voice sounded. She realized she liked him calling her that. Lizzie. "And, as to answer your question, no. I'm hardly following you. You told me you work here, last night. The Steuben Club." She did vaguely remember telling him that, but not once did the thought cross her that he might have used that information as a way to see her again. He looked around her place of employment, taking in the glistening floor, the counter she was standing behind. "Somehow, it isn't as good as I had pictured it was in my mind. But we can't do anything about that, now can we?"

She found herself at a loss on what to say. Her brain still wasn't working right over the shock of his sudden appearance. She never once believed she would ever see him again. "So... why are you here, sir? Can I check your coat or your hat?"

He removed his hat from his head, but he did not pass it to her. "No, I'm not here for any of that. Your service with me won't be necessary. The reason I came here tonight was strictly for dinner. Dinner tonight, you and me."

It did not come out of his mouth as a question to her. He wasn't asking her to dinner with him, he was more so telling her, and she had best come. That was what his tone of voice told her. Clearly he was used to getting his own way, with most things in life. And, clearly, he expected her to be another one of those things that came so easily to him.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" she asked him, with just enough sass in her voice to let him know she wasn't pleased.

If he caught on to her tone, he didn't show it.

"Both. The choice is yours. But I'm certainly not above and beyond getting on all fours and whining like a dog until you agree to come with me." She tried not to look shocked when he glanced down at the shiny marbled floor again, as if considering his options. "The floor doesn't look very nice on the knees, however. But if that's what you want?" He bent as if he was actually going to do it, and Liz had to physically reach over and stop him. He sure was different.

"Don't. Please just... don't. I finish in two hours."

"I'll happily wait. I'll see you outside in two hours, Lizzie."

He nodded at her once, smiled, and placed his fedora back on his head. Then he left outside the doors of the building without another word, leaving Liz feeling frazzled. He sure was strange, a different man than any she had ever met before. There was something about him, something she wasn't sure of. She couldn't believe she had actually accepted so quickly to head out to dinner with him. It was baffling to her that he didn't even mind waiting two dreadfully long hours until she got off.

When the time came and she was finished for the evening, she was disappointed to find him waiting outside the bricked building for her like a loyal dog, ready to take her out to dinner. The streetlights illuminated the rough, cracked texture of the asphalt as she stood there uncertainly, shivering as the night time wind cut through the fabric of her clothes. Car horns beeped as automobiles went roaring past on the road. She had half a mind to tell him she wasn't interested in dinner with him, so that she could head on home to her father. But he had made it clear on her that he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Surprising her, she watched him hastily unbutton the overcoat he was wearing with steady fingers, and he ripped it off his shoulders before holding it out to her. "Here, put this on. You're cold, Lizzie."

At least he was being attentive to her needs... A woman had to admire a man like that.

She found she was speechless when he stepped towards her, sliding his overcoat securely around her shoulders to provide her warmth from the chill in the evening air. Their eyes met and held for a moment as he fastened one of the buttons so it wouldn't slide off her, and she couldn't deny she felt immediately better, snug and warm with his coat.

"Thank you," she whispered, once she finally regained use of her voice. "That's very kind of you."

"You're very welcome, Lizzie. Now, shall we make a start?"

Since Liz didn't have any better idea what to do, she nodded and he held his arm out of her. They walked together in silence, her hand tucked inside his arm as he lead the way, half of her body pressed against him for that extra bit of warmth. She still couldn't believe she was actually doing this, but there was no going back now. When she dared to glance over at him, she found he was watching her as they walked leisurely. She could feel him shivering in the dress shirt and vest he was wearing.

"I'm sorry to have taken your coat from you. Now you're the one that's shivering."

"Nonsense. I would prefer for myself to be cold, rather than you." That was a bold and forward statement, but she tried not to let her shock show in her appearance. "Besides we don't have far to walk now. I know a nice place that is just across the road."

They crossed the road and Red stepped forward to hold the door to the restaurant open for her. She thanked him with a smile, impressed by his manners. Once inside, a man behind the counter greeted Red enthusiastically, obviously having met before, and then Red helped Liz out of his coat, then passed it and his hat to the man who hung them behind the counter on a coat rack.

"For two tonight," Red explained good-naturedly. "Thank you."

"Right this way, Mr. Gibbons," the man said, leading them away from the counter into the dinner section.

The place looked cozy and intimate, Liz thought. She hadn't gone out to dinner in a very long time. Already, people were seated and chatting at tables. The man showed them to a table that was available and Liz saw Red thank the man by giving him a very generous and large tip. Once they were free to themselves, Red pulled her chair back for her and she sat, inspecting their surroundings nervously. She felt underdressed for some reason, when she took in what other women were wearing in the premises.

"Well, I must say I'm surprised," she began when Red finally got himself seated comfortably across from her.

He gave out a soft, breathy laugh as his eyes met hers. "What made you surprised?"

"That you went out of your way and went through all this fuss and trouble so that you could have dinner with me, that's why I'm surprised."

"This is no trouble nor is it a fuss, I can assure you."

"That's strange, seeing as last night you sure appeared as if you were in a rush to get away?"

He opened his mouth, about to explain to her, but then she noticed how he closed it and simply smiled at her instead. "Would you like a drink?" he asked her.

Before she could so much as reply, the man from the counter appeared, as if it was a privilege to be serving the man seated before her. Red started speaking to the man in another language, something that was the very last thing she was expecting, and Liz noticed her mouth hang open.

He was clearly well-cultured, educated, and knew a lot. He had probably picked up different languages from travelling to different locations, as he had told her last night during their dance shared together. She had found him rather attractive last night, and now, even more so.

The man gave her a smile before he disappeared off to get their drinks prepared.

Her mind went blank as she brought her attention back to the man sitting across from her. For a moment, she had no idea what to say or what their previous conversation was about. But much to her relief, the man returned quickly, plunking a tumbler down on the table near Red's elbow. The drink Red had ordered her was dazzling; She had no idea what it was, but as the man placed it on the table in front of her, she inspected it, bewildered. The liquid inside the martini glass was blue and it smelled potent.

When she looked up, she found her date was watching her reaction with some amusement glistening away in his eyes. "It's called an Aviation cocktail. Judging by your reaction, I'm assuming you've never had one before?"

"That's correct. Usually I'm not such a drinker."

"Well, that's endearing." He didn't sound as if he was fooling with her by saying that, so it made her feel better about how unknowledgeable she no doubt seemed. He raised his glass. "To you," he toasted, and she felt strangely uncomfortable by that. Why would he bother toasting to her?

"To you," she went along with him, picking up her glass carefully. She chinked her glass against his and took a quick, experimental sip of the drink. It was surprisingly refreshing, and not as bad as she had first thought it was going to taste. The gin left a fiery trail in her throat.

"What do you think? I know a lot of women who consider an Aviation cocktail their favorite drink. One woman once described it to me as it evoking the feelings of Spring. Would you agree?"

She sat her glass back down on the table and sat straighter in her seat, resting her elbow on the table and supporting her face in the heel of her hand. "Is that what you do? You do this with a lot of women?" If so, she couldn't exactly blame him. He seemed like a man who had a lot to say, a lot of experience in the finer things.

"Not recently, no. I haven't been in the company of a beautiful woman for over four months." He took another sip of his own drink, his eyes boring into hers. "Well, until last night, I should say. With you."

He peered deeply in her eyes as if it was nothing to tell a woman she was beautiful.

She didn't know whether to laugh out loud or whether to simply thank him.

"What exactly is it that you do for a living?" she asked him curiously. She hadn't missed the fact that he obviously came from money, considering how well he dressed and how he was treating her now, lavishing her with a drink that was probably more than she could afford. "You never did tell me what you did, did you?"

He looked away from her for a moment, staring across the room. His mouth moved, as if he was chewing something. "There's never one constant thing that I do, Lizzie. I like to dabble, here and there. I like mental stimulation, as all of us do."

He still hadn't properly answered her question. "So what do you mainly do?"

Liz noticed his hands grew restless at her question. He fixed up and loosened the tie he was wearing from around his neck. "Here's an idea: Let's hear more about you instead. Do you enjoy your job?"

It was no mystery to her that he was deliberately evading her question. He was being extremely vague about himself. There was clearly something there that he didn't want her to know about himself. But she let it slide for the moment, playing along. She could get back to that question later on. "We all need money to survive. My father can't work, so I do it for him." She shrugged and looked down at her hands, her fingers finding the scar on her wrist. It was a habit she had ever since she could remember, and it made her feel less nervous, every time she stroked it.

When she glanced up at Red again, she saw the way his eyes were watching what her finger was doing, in stroking her scar. Heat rushed up to her cheeks and she clasped and unclasped her hands before shoving them under the table to make herself stop.

He nodded and returned his eyes to her face, picking up his drink and taking another sip. She was relieved he didn't mention her nervous habit. He observed her, head tilting slightly. "Not to sound rude in asking, but... how much do you earn?"

"Three dollars an hour. Most men get eight." She watched him take another sip of his drink, and she picked up her glass and did the same. "When are you actually gonna tell me what you do, aside from your... travelling?"

Effectively distracting her, she couldn't help noticing his hand digging into the pocket on his shirt. Then he brought out a couple of dollar notes and slid them across the table towards her. She made no move to take them. He said nothing, just held her gaze in his as he pushed the money towards her. She decided he was the most unnerving man she had ever met.

"What are you doing?" She hissed in outrage, "You think I'm gonna take your money?"

"Please do. I have plenty to spare, Lizzie."

"I'm not taking your money," she whispered flatly. "You're insane, throwing your money around like that..." He was unbelievable.

He shrugged, very cavalier. "Perhaps. But I'm sure you need it more than I do. Who knows? It might help with your father."

"Oh, yeah? And if I take it, then what's the price?" She wasn't that foolish to accept a man's money without expecting there to be a consequence. A man couldn't be that generous. "You know, if you're looking for a girl to fool around with and have some fun with, then she's not me. You want some girl to take home for the night and have some fun with, go find someone else. I've heard they have girl's around here that do that type of thing, but I'm not one of them."

Startling her, he laughed at her words. His laughter was just as unnerving as the rest of him. "Is that what you think, Lizzie? That I'm doing this for a bit of fun? Personally, myself, quickies have never interested me. That's just not me. If I'm going to have a girl then I'm more interested in the long-haul. I want a woman who will hold me as I die in her arms."

How he spoke about his death, so calmly, was disturbing. It was as if he wasn't expecting to be around for very long, and that at any minute, he could be killed. "And have you had any luck with that? In finding the right girl who will let you die in her arms?"

"I believe I have finally found her, yes." Liz didn't need to ask who he was implying of. She could tell, just with the way he looked at her, somewhat softly and tenderly, that he meant her.

"And that's all hinting to me, is it? You're talking about me?"

"Yes," he confessed. "Well done." He didn't even bother hiding it. It was scary.

"That's a serious thing to say to someone you've only just met?"

"That is true, yes. I don't know you. I don't even know who you are, no less where you came from. But it only takes less than a minute to truly decide whether you want something and, with me, when I want something, I have to get it. Like money, for instance."

She picked at the stem of her glass with her fingers, digesting his words down. "So you want me?" she asked him doubtfully.

"Yes. I believe it is certainly no secret that I want you. The only question now, is whether you want me also?" He fell silent, shifting and draping an arm around the back of his chair as he watched her intently, as if waiting for her to answer.

Liz couldn't believe this. She wasn't sure whether it was all really happening, or whether she was just imagining it. This fellow was unbelievable, and straightforward, and charming as hell, she thought. She had no idea what to think or how to take his words. He began speaking again before she could so much as get anything out of her mouth.

"All right, I'll cut to the chase, Lizzie. I certainly don't want to lie to you, because if this is going to happen, I would prefer you knew everything before you made your decision. Have you listened to the radio or seen the newspapers recently?"

Liz had no idea where he was going with this. How could he change the topic so fast?

"I listen to the radio, yes."

"And have you heard about that group of notorious men that go around, from town to town, looting money like deviant rascals?"

Liz's father was the one that mainly listened to the radio, but she'd heard bits now and then. People were struggling to make ends meet and crime was becoming very popular. Where was he going with this, though? "I've heard a bit about it."

She noticed he appeared suddenly nervous as he lifted his glass, slugged the last of it down, and then plopped it back down on the table. "I'm one of those rascals, Lizzie," he muttered down at the table. "I'm Raymond Reddington. Just four days ago, I was stuck in a hell-hole of a prison called Crown Point. A few good friends came, a diversion was created, and I got out. Now all of these bumbling G-men are constantly on our trail, and that was why I had to leave early, as I did, last evening." He gave her a wryly apologetic smile at the news. "I haven't had a woman or no less experienced the pleasures of being with a woman for over fifteen years. I figure, before I die, I probably should."

She was shocked. And scared by his confession. And maybe left with an odd sensation as if she was drowning. "Why would you tell me all that? I could call someone over here, get you arrested."

"Do as you will, with that information. It's your decision, your choice to make whether you want to rat me out or not, Lizzie. But I, for one, won't be stopping you, whichever decision you choose to make. But if that's what you want, if you want to tell someone, then now is your chance. If not, come with me to my room where I'm staying."

Liz sure did have a feeling, since the first time she laid eyes on him last evening, that he was different from all the rest. But that was most definitely not the difference that she had in mind.

Soooo... how was that? I'm one of those people that get kind of anxious so that is why it has taken me such a long time to update. I apologize and I'll update a lot more quicker. Please leave me a review to let me know what you think, as I'm not sure if I'm doing this right or if it's lacking anything vital.