All Of This Silence And Patience, Pining And Anticipation…
A/N: I have cherry picked some dialogue from 6x19. I think it would be quite traumatic to not only see a grandfather you never knew existed and then to have an in-depth discussion about your mother/family, a mostly untrue one at that. NO. Enough with men lying.
I skipped the whole mint conversation because have you ever known Liz grow anything. 😅 Does she seem the type to grow mint on her windowsill? Also it was kind of cringy, girl you never grew herbs in your life. These writers. Lmao.
I know I keep going on about Cuba BUT I think it affected many people who just let it slide and it was never mentioned again. Red went to Dom and told him she was dead and then went back saying she wasn't. Yet he never mentioned it or admitted to grieving her.
Straight up stole some dialogue from YOU 4x06 because it was so perfect. So spoilers if you watch that and haven't yet. Although it probably won't be too obvious, I tweaked it to fit in.
Thank MinP1072 for Red's outfit. 😏
Song is: Dress - Taylor Swift.
I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side…
'Agent Keen. What can I do for you?' He asked, feigning politeness as he looked at her with neutral features.
She hesitated, frowning. 'You could begin by saying hello to your granddaughter.' He gaped at her for a moment before looking down and stepping back so she could enter his home.
'You came with Dembe? Where is he, should I expect him soon?' He asked casually, almost irritated as she came through the door. She took a breath, it would be okay.
'No, he's not coming. Dembe will wait outside.' She told him, shrugging off her green wool coat. He'd ushered her into the joint dining - living room, pulling out a chair for where they had sat before, at the table facing the window to the front.
'You'll have tea?' He was gruff but he didn't wait for her to reply, moving toward the through kitchen banging the stove top kettle down against the burner. She felt a little out of her depth. Maybe she should've had called first, arranged a time and allowed him to get used to the idea as she had.
'I'm sorry I didn't call first…' She called through the archway and he came into view.
'He knows you're here? He must if you brought Dembe with you.' He leant against the wood of the arch, his arms folded across his chest. The kettle began to whistle and he moved to shut off the gas on the stove, pouring boiling water into two mugs.
'Yes, he told me about you and said I should visit.' She called, watching him move about the kitchen before coming back through with two steaming mugs.
'Did he now and what exactly did he tell you?' He eyed her almost suspiciously, placing her mug down on the coaster next to her.
'Thank you.' She murmured, glancing down at the mug before she looked back up him.
'Na Zdorovie.' He told her in Russian. She smiled at him for a moment, he seated himself opposite her and where he had sat over a year ago. Her stomach clenched a little, feeling a flutter of nerves.
'He told me that you're my grandfather - Katarina's father and that I'd already met you when I came here after Tom died. Nothing else.'
'I see…' He gave her a pointed look, his pale blue eyes glinting.
'Would you rather talk to him first?' She asked getting the impression he felt like he was talking out of turn, or going against some kind of code.
He pursed his lips, making a tutting sound. 'No, if he told you about me then he's had a change of heart. What might have cause that, I wonder?' He asked with a smile.
'Me… I know he's not Raymond Reddington. I found that out on my own but…' His eyebrows rose as she held his gaze. 'We've talked… Came to an agreement.' She could feel a tremble beginning in her limbs, it would be okay.
'You made demands and ultimatums…' He surmised, folding his arms across his chest. Her belly clenched as he eyed her and she swallowed but careful not to show anything on her face.
'What makes you say that?' She asked, curious as to what he would say. She sat back, her hands in her lap as she tried to calm her nerves.
'Because that man would only do something like that if you threatened to leave him. 'He was deeply affected when you faked your death. He told you that, Mmm?' He responded rather gruffly and she sat very still, feeling like sides were being taken.
'We have talked about it. I wasn't aware that you knew though.' She began slowly, unflinching, her mask in place. She warmed her hands against the mug despite the burn coming through. She pressed her fingers into the mug, hoping the tremble wasn't visible to him, it would be okay. She clung to the mantra because it had to be.
'He's kept me updated. He told me you died and I mourned you.' He said it matter of factly but she felt a twinge of guilt. Well she hadn't know about him, perhaps if she had things would've been different.
They sat silently for a moment as she gathered herself, willing the tremble in her body to stop. This man with a gruff exterior had mourned her loss and yet here he was, never having once made contact. He'd let her go for thirty years, hearing titbits of her life from a man who wasn't even related to her. She watched him as he picked up his mug from the table.
'Can I ask why? You're my grandfather. Why would you want to hide that from me?' And never see me in thirty years of my life? Your own granddaughter.
'Because I made a promise a long time ago…' He looked down into his mug, taking a sip.
'A promise to lie to your granddaughter?' She leant forward in her seat, shrugging. 'Why would anyone ever ask you to do that?' She turned away before coming back to him.
'Hmm. To keep you safe.' He held her gaze as she sat back. There was something in his face and it was then it dawned on her. Her grandfather knew exactly who Red was. Her belly fluttered at the realisation, her breath choking off in her throat. It would be okay, but she was failing to believe it.
'You know his identity.' She whispered incredulously, almost staring off into space at the implication, as he crossed his legs.
'I do…' He frowned back at her, folding his arms across his chest. Two words, he'd uttered and yet those two words could change everything for her.
She paused, almost stunned, trying to get a grip on her need for answers, she had let this go. She had come to terms with the fact that he would tell her when he was ready. That all of this had begun because of the secrets he kept and this was the only one left she had resolved not to push. That didn't mean, it didn't niggle inside her, that it didn't itch beneath her skin wondering whether this man in front of her would tell her, if she were to ask. He was eyeing her, she was aware of his gaze and she tried to keep herself still. It would be okay, wouldn't it?
'He and I have talked about his identity, I don't need you to tell me who he is…' She half wondered if she said it for his benefit or her own. 'He's said that he will tell me and I believe he will in time. I'm not even sure I want to know about my mother at this point but we are family, blood and that has to count for something, right?'
'Agent Keen…' He began solemnly, leaning forward slightly.
'Aren't we beyond formalities? Call me Elizabeth.' She offered with a smile. He inclined his head smiling, his eyes twinkling.
'I always think of you as Masha but perhaps Elizabeth suits who you are now, yes?' He smiled at her and she sat back, her urgency to know more quelled for now. She looked down for a moment, draining her tea. The use of her birth name had set her on more edge and she was beginning to think perhaps it was time to go. It was better to save discussing her mother for another time. One where she had prepared for that and not this meeting.
As if reading her mind he said, 'I hope you know your mother loved you.' She met his gaze, bristling under his words. Had she really? She might have before the age of four but after that? After she had left her, was it only guilt she felt? Like the guilt she felt over leaving Agnes, she loved Agnes but the guilt was something else. History repeats.
'And my father? Did she love him, too?' She felt herself becoming defensive, felt the need to defend him because she was like him. Hadn't she been played for a fool and been a mark. Whether Tom had loved her or not the wound was still there, the pain of being played for a fool was still buried deeply.
'Reddington was an assignment.' He told her in a clipped tone, like it made any difference. Somewhere she knew she hadn't been a product of love, how could she be when her mother had set her father up and left him to die in a burning house but it didn't hurt any less.
'So, you were her handler…' Her eyes narrowed and she felt her defences go up. It was time to leave because she wasn't prepared to hear anymore and she could feel her chest getting tighter. How long had she even been in here? She rubbed her sternum absently as he began talking again, somehow oblivious to the affect his words were having on his granddaughter. It would be okay, just go
'I ordered her to turn him – turn him, not to have his child.' He almost snapped, 'I don't know if they loved each other or not. What I do know is that they loved you.' Did they love her or was she a pawn to be fought over?
'Loved me and fought over me…' She spoke hastily, standing abruptly, her chair legs squeaking against the hardwood floor. 'Thank you for the tea but I should probably go and get back to Dembe.' She placed her mug on the table, holding his eye briefly before turning. Just go, her mind was screaming. It would be okay, she tried again taking a steady breath.
'You'll come again?' He asked, using the table to help him stand.
'Yes, if that's okay?' When she was more prepared to hear how her parents loved her.
'Of course, you are my granddaughter, I haven't seen you in thirty years.' Who's fault was that? She wanted to scream it. Who was to blame for how her life turned out? For bringing a child into this world. Hadn't she done the same? History repeats.
'Yeah…' She murmured faintly, reaching for her coat. Her stomach was clenched and she felt her breath becoming short. She moved quickly to the door, he was slow but not far behind her. It would be okay, it would be okay, go, just go.
When she pulled the door open, her eyes connected with Dembe's through the wind shield before she turned to face him. 'Next time I'll call first or maybe we could talk on the phone in the mean time.'
'Of course, Reddington has my number but I hope you'll come back though?' Reddington who wasn't Reddington.
She gave him a weak smile, swallowing before turning to leave. Urgency welled up inside her as Dembe started the car. Go, get away now, her mind screamed.
'Elizabeth…' She paused, turning by the hood of the car, her fingers tented against the hood. 'They did love you.' He told her firmly. She smiled at him as best she could, hoping he wouldn't notice how his words stung.
She waved as the car was turned around, that same weak smile on her face that seemed frozen in place. She sat very still until the house was out of sight then she bent double, letting out a shaky breath with her body trembling. As Dembe pulled out of the driveway on to the main road, her breathing quickened, panic running through her veins. It's okay, it's not okay, you are okay.
'Pull over…' She gasped out, reaching across to grab hold of Dembe's arm. She needed to get out of this car, needed fresh air and she need it now. 'Dembe!' She yelled hoarsely, fighting with her belt to get it undone and stumbled out of the car.
She slammed the door, collapsing against the side as she bent over, her hands on her knees. Dembe reached her coming around the front of the car, leaning over her in concern.
'Elizabeth, what do you need?' He asked, placing a hand against her shoulder blade.
'Nothing…' She waved him off, she could do this - she told herself. 'Please just leave me be…' He removed his hand and she heard the door close a second later.
She stumbled from the side of the car, down the grassy bank, wet with patchy snow that led presumably onto the back of his property. She sat down heavily on the bank, uncaring that it was wet and rested her head in her hands. It was okay. Nothing terrible had happened. He was welcoming if not brisk and he wanted to see her again. What did she expect if it hadn't been to talk about his own daughter? She took a deep breath, tears burning her eyes and tried to focus on the sounds of wildlife around her, the occasional car as it passed and the rustle of leaves. It was okay. She reached for her phone, the number was still preset, she hit the name she wanted, listening to the ring while it connected and second guessing her decision.
'Liz?' Samar picked up after four rings, 'Everything okay?'
'No. Can you talk?' She asked shakily, a rasp in her voice. She heard a muffled sound and then muffled voices.
'Of course. How did it go?' Samar asked with concern.
As she heard Samar's words, a sense of relief washed over her, powerful and overwhelming and she burst into tears.
She felt better for having spoken with Samar who was always so level headed, it made Liz wonder what actually ruffled the woman's feathers. But somehow she knew just what to say and now that surge of adrenaline had passed she was beginning to feel sleepy in the warm car so she cracked the window to let in some fresh air.
'Thank you for coming with me, I do appreciate your stoic strength and I didn't mean to push you away before.' She leant over and placed her hand on Dembe's arm, feeling bad for pushing him away when she didn't know what she would do without his quiet reassurance.
'Of course Elizabeth. I understand.' He said with a smile before turning back to the junction ahead.
'Wait we aren't going to the airfield?' She asked as he turned in the opposite direction.
'We have to make a stop.' He smiled again, a twinkle in his eye, watching the road.
They turned onto a tree lined drive, the smell of damp pine coming through the cracked window. Snow was thicker here, deeper into The Adirondack mountains and suddenly there he was, standing on the walkway to a small cabin. He was dressed casually, her belly dipping and fluttering at the mere sight of him. She felt that invisible tether between them, pulling, tugging her gently as their eyes connected. From the outside the cabin seemed very unlike him. A walkway spanned an open drop and the cabin was set back on a high raised deck, to fit snuggly into the natural incline behind. It was square in shape, with black framed windows, clad in pale wood with a dark corrugated roof and a covered veranda spanning the front of the deck. Dembe had left the engine running and she tore her eyes away from him as stood waiting for her, a smile on his face.
'You aren't coming?' She questioned, her breath catching at the implications of them both being here alone.
'No, I'll be back in a few days.' He smiled, placing a hand on her forearm in encouragement.
'But I don't have any things here, my meds!' She told him suddenly concerned with her lack of preparedness. Why did he always spring these things on her?
'I packed you a bag when you were talking to Samar the other day.' She cocked her head, frowning at him. 'Raymond wanted to surprise you.' She shook her head but couldn't help the smile. She leant over and kissed his cheek as he popped the trunk.
'Thank you' She whispered, one arm embracing him. She headed for the trunk to retrieve the holdall, slamming the lid and waving as Dembe pulled back onto the drive. Suddenly she felt apprehensive, nervous even. She hadn't been without Dembe in a while and his solid reassurance had been such a comfort of late.
She stood for a moment at the end of the raised walkway, taking in the cabin and the surrounding woods before she met his eyes again. That invisible tether pulling tighter between them. His eyes gleamed back at her, the heat in his gaze sent a shiver across her skin and a light flutter in her stomach. He looked so different - hot, dressed casually in, were those jeans beneath a casual jacket? She raised an eyebrow, her heart thudding wildly in her chest.
'Hey…' She spoke on an out breath, standing two steps away from him still semi apprehensive, almost afraid if she blinked he would disappear. They were here, alone and together and while she should be annoyed for their earlier conversation, she was just so happy to see him.
'Lizzy…' He smiled back at her, his eyes crinkling. 'Come inside, you're cold.' He noticed her shiver, beckoning her forward but not moving, wanting her to come to him. She looked nervous, trembling as she stood at the edge of the walkway. But she was here with him and he had never seen anything more beautiful.
'I'm not sure it's the cold, are you wearing jeans?' She asked with a laugh, closing the distance between them as he reached for her.
'You know I have been known to wear jeans when the occasion has called for it' He smirked, folding her into his arms as she dropped the bag at his side. She felt so good against him, her skin cool to his touch, her hair fresh with mountain air. He nuzzled into her, breathing deeply.
'When? When have you ever worn jeans?' She mocked with another laugh reaching her arms up to wind around his neck as he pulled her close. His arms held her securely, their faces close and she could feel his warm breath ghost her skin as he pulled back to look at her.
'I said, when the occasion called for it.' He whispered against her hair, breathing her in again. Her light tone filled his chest with warmth, her beaming smile only for him.
'Oh hmm, and this jacket. It's very you.' She raised an eyebrow, laughing again in appreciation at the thigh length wax jacket he wore which screamed English countryside.
'Do you have the hat to match this?' She asked then, apparently quite serious despite her wide smile on her lips, her eyes were sparkling back at him.
'You know I may have, but if you think the jeans are not me, wait til you see what's underneath the jacket…' He teased, releasing her and reaching down for her bag.
'Why what are you wearing under there?' She asked, now needing to know as he took her hand and pulled her into the house. They cleared the small vestibule entering the kitchen space which looked out onto the rest of the open plan room.
'Did you like your gifts Lizzy?' He rumbled dropping her bag, next to a large chrome fridge which had been set into the wall. His fingers trailing her palm as he released her hand, sending tiny sparks straight down her spine to between her thighs.
Her eyes were drawn to the huge floor to ceiling windows to the back of the property. The high ceilings painted black and off set by exposed wooden beams. There was a feature wall also in black with a huge glass encased fire. Where there wasn't exposed brick, the walls had been plastered and painted a light grey-green. It was very industrially rustic which also didn't strike her as particularly him but the soft yellow light made it feel cosy.
'Elizabeth?' He almost purred her name, pulling her out of her thoughts as he pulled her back into his embrace. He could stop touching her, he'd touched her before, of course but this was different. This was purposefully intimate, awoken feeling, awoken intent. Every touch reminded him she was here, that she was his.
'Um yes, I did thank you. Who owns this place?' She asked distractedly, her eyes wandering over his shoulder at the open plan room, the living space at the back looked out onto the hilly grounds.
'An associate…' He pulled her closer, nuzzling into her hair.
'Oh an associate?' She echoed back, giggling as his nose brushed against her neck, his breath lightly tickling.
'Did you bring them?' He asked, her attention elsewhere as he realised her reluctantly, shrugging off his own jacket, his hand out for her coat as she did the same.
'The gifts?' He asked with a raised eyebrow, a smirk against his lips as he saw a blush creep across her cheekbones.
'I have no idea, you had Dembe pack remember?' She shivered at the expression on his face, his pupils dark and dilated.
'No matter, I have more for you…' He called as he open the closet by the door to hang their coats. He pulled his sleeves up to his elbows as he came back into the room.
'What? You did look at the price tags when you brought them right? I don't need anymore and when exactly do you think I'm going to wear all of these matching sets?' She asked quirking an eyebrow, she knew where the luxury pieces had come from and knew very well the price tags that went along with them.
He sidled up to her grinning, 'I can think of a few scenarios.' He wrapped his arms around her waist as she faced the large windows, he pulled her back against him, his chin resting against her shoulder from behind.
She moulded into him, settling back against him, closing her eyes for a moment, her fingers trailing along the light hair of his forearms. She could see their reflection in the glass and she smiled, feeling safe in his arms. They looked good together, like this was where she had belonged all along. He looked so different, it kept hitting her, like all his edges had softened, his defences not so high.
'Wait, are you wearing a hoodie?' She suddenly realised, patting his arms to be released. She turned and stepped outside of his reach, eyeing the black hoodie he wore with the jeans. She raised her eyebrows, whistling.
'The Concierge of Crime wearing a hoodie and jeans. Now I've seen everything!' She laughed as he caught her hand, pulling her against him. A thrill ran through her as her body hit the hard line of his.
'Never mind what I'm wearing, what are you wearing?' He asked suggestively, his hand was winding in her hair as the other pulled her close. He pulled her hair gently, titling her head back, the alabaster of her neck exposed to him. God, he loved touching her, would he ever tire of it?
'I wasn't expecting your company…' She hummed as his lips met her neck. 'This is why you plan with people you want to see' She teased as he nibbled just below her ear. She squirmed against him, tingles spreading out across her skin.
'Can't a man surprise his…' He paused, his nose nuzzling her hairline. 'What are we anyway?' Her hair smelled so good and he breathed in deeply.
'Do we need to define that now?' She sighed, warm and tingly, her head swimming as his hands slipped down her body to her waist, settling at her hip.
'How about you're my girlfriend from Ann Arbor?' He quipped softly against her ear, humour in his tone, flicking her ear lobe with his tongue causing her to squirm again.
'Er, that's still a no…' She laughed wriggling in his arms, 'How about you show me where the bedroom is, Mr Concierge of Crime dressed in a hoodie and jeans?'
He dipped his head kissing her soft and slowly but released her as she nibbled his lip, she frowned up at him sensing his reluctance. She suddenly felt unsure, pushing back slightly.
'We have time, neither of us have to be anywhere, let's just take the time and enjoy each other?' He phrased it as a question but she got the feeling something was coming and stepped back, turning back to the window.
'You want to talk about Dom?' She presumed, not turning back to him, her arms folded across her chest, her nerves suddenly alight and burning. 'Can't we do that later? Why ruin the mood…' She huffed, feeling a sudden black cloud descend around her. Her heart sank in her chest, a pit in her stomach.
'Lizzy… I don't want to ruin the mood. We don't have to argue, I just want to know how it went. I want to hear about your day.' He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him. He kissed the back of her head. She was stiff for a moment before relaxing back against him.
'And what if it was shitty?' She asked, her hands resting against his at her waist, her fingers idly tracing patterns against his forearm.
'I still want to know. It couldn't have been that bad?' He asked resting his chin against her shoulder. Her fingers stilled for a moment and he could still feel the pattern she had drawn, warm and tingly.
She wasn't sure she was ready to talk about it, she had barely processed seeing him, let alone anything he'd said and her chest was still aching from being so tight. Her stomach clenched at the memory. She watched their reflection for a moment, his face was filled with concern. She turned in his arms, looking up at him with a sense of sadness. It would be okay.
'It wasn't bad, I just need time to process it and I panicked a little after. I don't want to relive it. I want to be here with you in this moment and not have to think about any of the shittiness of the past.' She took a breath, the remnants of panic humming in her veins.
'Okay, my love…' He pulled her closer, her head came to rest against his chest and she listened to the soft thud of his heart. He kissed her hair, his hand stroking down the length of it.
Her thoughts were now busy going over the details and she realised maybe he needed reassurance that nothing untoward was said, that he didn't need to worry. She felt a pang of guilt as she looked up into his face, this wasn't just about her and her past, this was about him and their combined past because he was apart of that. She reached up, a hand cupping the side of his face and he leaned into her touch for a moment.
'He didn't tell me who you are.' She whispered, gazing up at him with big round eyes, she swallowed. 'I forgot this wasn't just about me, I'm sorry.' She tried for a smile but her lips trembled so she ground her jaw, the uncertainty building in her chest.
'He told you he knows who I am.' He pushed her hair back from her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. He felt her apprehension, holding it but he didn't feel it in return.
'I kind of realised he knew. He didn't need to say anything.' She felt him tense for a moment, his hand dropping to her shoulder. She looked back to his eyes, some deep seated insecurity shining back at her in a rare moment of vulnerability, her heart clenched and then fluttered.
She reached for his hand, pulling it tighter around herself. Looking up at him, her face earnest, 'I will never ask your name, who you were, what you did. I don't need to know. Ever, if that's what you want.' She rubbed her thumb against the side of his face, his eyes deep pools of emotion that almost made her pause.
She took a breath, 'If you are honest with me from now on and I'm honest with you, then that's what matters.' She smiled as he reached for her hands, clasping the between them as he looked away, out at the snow covered trees.
'Lizzy…' He began, his voice rough with emotion. He moved his hands to her waist, her fingers lightly trailed up his forearms to where his hoodie bunched at the elbows before holding his arms.
'Red, look at me.' She waited until his eyes connected with her own, 'If you let me leave the past where it belongs, the least I can do, is the same for you.' His face held a soft frown but she could see he was thinking over her words, he was always so patient and she was the one with the urgency, she was the one that always ploughed ahead but this time she wanted him to be sure of her, she wanted him to feel secure that she could wait, for however long it took.
'If we are trying. We don't have to ice each other out or run away. We can just…'
'Be…' His voice was raw as he pulled her smiling face towards him, his lips meeting hers hesitantly at first but she gripped the front of his hoodie pulling him closer, her mouth opening to him.