Author's note: In case it doesn't go without saying, I have no connection to the blacklist and this is created entirely for my amusement as well as yours. Thank you so much to everyone for reading and reviewing. I greatly appreciate the smiles it gives me, every single time!

To say the least, there has been quite a wait for this, and I apologize for that. Hopefully, you won't be too letdown to hear that this will be the final chapter, but I just have a few more things left for Red and Lizzie to do in this the story, and now is the time. *CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED* that one of those things is some trippy, dirty hippie, outdoors sexytime.

With that said, the actual sex will occur in the epilogue, which I PROMISE will be posted very quickly!

Alright, enough foreplay.

-...-...-

'cause I've been down to Dixie

and dropped acid on my tongue

tripped upon the land

until enough was enough

I was a little bit lighter,

and adventure on my sleeve

I was a little drunk and looking for company

so I found myself a sweetheart

with the softest of hands

we were unlucky in love

but I'd do it all again

(Acid Tongue - Jenny Lewis)

-...-...-

All day long, Red had done one thing after another that didn't just take Lizzie by surprise, but blew her mind completely. It actually seemed that he was intentionally trying to one-up himself each time. It all started with the simple act of wearing sandals, and in that moment, Lizzie could have never imagined the trajectory that their day would take. Thinking back on it, she laughed at herself aloud.

But there were two Reds, it seemed. The Red she knows best is the suave, seductive concierge of crime. He's frighteningly cool and calculating, always no less than three steps ahead of everyone around him. He's a sleek, opaque surface. Most of all, he is infuriating.

The second is the loose-jawed, cheshire-grinning, jovial adventurer. He's the man who'll go anywhere and ingest anything. He's the bon vivant that greets everyone with a hug and occasionally sleeps with his friend's wives. It's noteworthy that this Red inspires the myriad non-sequiturs that Criminal Red is notorious for dropping. In little ways, he creeps out and bleeds into the surface, every day. As the festival raged on, it became increasingly apparent how intricately interwoven the two Reds were.

But perhaps that was only the acid chattering in Lizzie's head. Her brain was completely thrown by the insistent urge to connect absolutely EVERYTHING. It's no wonder the drug was so influential to the 60's movement that started in Berkeley and Haight-Ashbury. Lizzie could finally understand why so many of the people that took it were insistent on brotherhood and oneness with the earth. She felt connected to everything, but most of all, to both her delight and dismay-to Red.

For too long, these were the thoughts coursing through her head while she recalcitrantly sat on the muddy ground, watching Red dancing his heart out to a jam band. He moved in perfect time with the throbbing percussion. His hips slipped and swayed effortlessly with the wailing saxaphone, and his arms seemed compelled entirely by the guitar. It was as if each member of the band controlled their own respective strings, attached to different parts of Red's body. He was practically dancing the alphabet.

It suddenly occurred to her that it could very well be the other way around. RED was controlling the band! He was glorious, ethereal, covered in a sheen of sweat, and perfectly god-like. Lizzie was in awe.

And this. THIS was the greatest surprise of all. (Or perhaps it was just the acid talking.)

He reached down and offered his hand, which Lizzie took with a shrug, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He smoothly crooned, "As fine of a slow dancer as you are, sweetheart, it isn't enough. You can't sit out the fast jams."

"I don't think I'm very good at this. I was trying to get a handle on it from watching you."

"Oh! No no no! You can't do that. This isn't that kind of dancing. You don't learn it. You FEEL it. Do you trust me?"

"Um..." she hesitated. That seemed like an awfully loaded question.

"Come on, Lizzie. Close your eyes. Try to stop thinking. You know how to use your body. Let the acid do the work, if you have to, but feel the music. I'll make sure you don't run into anything. When you get the hang of it, open your eyes again."

She took a deep breath, meeting his gaze, and was fortified by his sincerity. She closed her eyes, but stayed still at first, just listening to the music, willing herself to absorb it. Soon, as if of its own volition, her body started to sway in time with the beat. She bobbed her head and threw her arms up in the air. She gave in to the urge to jump up and down. A nudge on her hip from Red redirected her trajectory, but she kept her eyes closed for another minute, letting herself sink more deeply into the feeling. When she finally opened her eyes, she found Red beaming at her proudly, and she shook her head and grinned back at him triumphantly.

"That's my girl," he gloated, taking her hand in his and swinging her arm in time with her moves.

If they weren't the only ones dancing like this, she would have worried that they looked ridiculous. Oh, she was quite certain that they did, but she didn't care.

Having started well before she did, Red managed to wear himself out first. Night had long-since fallen, and the crowd was thinning. "You think that snowcone stand is still open? I passed 'parched' a few miles ago, but this stuff kills my appetite. You?"

For a second, she stumbled over his use of distance to measure time, wondering if he had done it on purpose. But... she was finally starting to come down. Of that much, she was certain. "I HOPE it's still open. Actually, this might be a little crazy, but I could use an actual drink." She paused for effect, slipping her palm into his back pocket. "An adult drink."

He scrutinized her expression and let out a low whistle, leaning slightly into her touch. "That sounds heavenly! It might ease the come-down. Help us sleep later..." He raked his eyes up and down her body. "After." His meaning was abundantly clear.

He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out two tightly-rolled joints. "These too. Just need to borrow a lighter from someone."

"Red!" She slapped his shoulder. "That would show up in any random drug test!"

He lowered his chin and gave her a demeaning look. "Oh, please. Like I couldn't take care of that for you. Do you really mean to suggest that you're fine with LSD but not a little pot? Lizzie."

She turned to face him and pressed her body against his, running both hands down his sides, eliciting a brief shiver from Red. She leaned in to suggestively whisper, "Well Red, if you promise to... take care... of me."

He hummed and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her in to crush his lips against hers. He had half a mind to take her right then and there, but restrained himself and pulled back, licking his lips in anticipation.

"Let's skip the snowcones," he drawled.

They had no trouble finding a tent to get drinks, and Lizzie let Red talk her into an expensive foreign draft beer that she'd never even heard of, but mandated that she also consume an equal amount of water. She complained when he didn't hold himself up to the same rule, but the alcohol went straight to her head, and her protests died out quickly. She became giddy and even more flirty than she'd been all day. When she remarked on the intense effect of only three beers, Red grinned and replied. "The alcohol content is 11% and you haven't eaten all day. I told you the water was a good idea. You'll thank me tomorrow. Hmmm scratch that... you'll thank me much sooner."

They slipped out of the tent when their bladders demanded release. After a trip to the porta-potties, Red quickly found a man smoking a cigarette, and borrowed the lighter. He lit both of their joints and passed one to Lizzie. He surprised her yet again by pulling a third joint from his pocket and slipping it appreciatively to the man along with his lighter.

"Right on, man. Thank you." The guy said with a grin.

Red took a deep drag, peering at Lizzie's bewildered expression. He tipped his head back, shooting a long plume of smoke into the night sky. "What? He looked like he's blazed more than one already. I was right, wasn't I?"

She brought the joint to her lips and took a small puff, only to sputter and cough with her exhale.

Red patted her back. "You okay? I didn't think it was too strong."

She nodded and tried again, to better effect. They sat down on the ground to smoke, and Lizzie only coughed twice more. What didn't surprise but certainly delighted her, was how unbearably sexy Red looked smoking that joint. He worked it over with a panache so grandiose that she'd bet money that he was well aware of it. Maybe it was only the effect of everything she'd taken, but she decided that he looked even better with a joint than a cigar. She loved the way his cheeks were drawn in with the inhale, and how his face relaxed when he tipped his head back to exhale with closed eyes. He savored the flavor, and the heady rush of the cannabinoids coursing through him. He used his whole body; felt it with his whole body. She could tell. Oh god, the man knew how to smoke and smolder.

They spoke little, and Lizzie indulged in erotic thoughts about him. If he pays half as much attention to her body as he did to that joint, she could be in for the romp of her life. Yet, one thing she knew about Red was, god bless him, he never did anything half-assed. She was tingling from head-to-toe. It wasn't helping that Red seemed unable to keep his hands off of her. He'd been idly stroking her inner thigh for several minutes, driving her mad. The prolonged silence was probably merciful. He knew what he was doing to her. He knew that she could neither speak nor listen effectively.

The dark sky kept them from noticing the return of rainclouds. As a result, they were completely taken by surprise when the sky seemed to suddenly open up to dump a torrential downpour, soaking them immediately. For fear of extinguishing their joints, they both leaped to their feet and sprinted towards the nearest shelter. It was an empty stage, with its curtains drawn. They collapsed on the wooden floor in a fit of giggles.

When their laughter died down, Red silently stared at Lizzie with a predatory gaze, no doubt thinking that this would be the perfect place to finally unleash himself upon her. She shivered in anticipation, and Red responded by wrapping his arms around her. They smoked their joints until they were nothing more than tiny roaches that extinguished themselves.

Red wasted no time on discussing his plans for her. Instead, he leaned in for a kiss, dragging his tongue across Lizzie's teeth, and slipping it into her mouth with a moan. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, both insistent and gentle. She melted against him and pushed him onto his back, straddling his waist.

Oblivious to the hard floor under his back, Red rested his hands on her hips. She widened her legs and sank down on him, lowering her mouth to his neck. Her lips sucked at the sensitive flesh, drawing it into her mouth without regard for the marks that she was sure to leave. Red tipped his head back and let out a resonating groan that shot straight to her center, resulting in a sudden rush of warmth. She grinded against him, nearly driven blind by this throbbing hardness. He pulled her tightly against him as she shuddered and came, a writhing mess of glory hovering over him.

After giving her just a moment to recover, Red rolled her over and parted her legs, settling between them. His eyes bore into hers as he asked, "Are you absolutely certain that you want this?"