An elegant bedroom chandelier hangs down casting spiderwebs on the ceiling and the headboard of the bed is rich and leather. She runs her hands up and down the smooth cover below her and feels the crispness of the sheets. The light from the window casts him in shadow above her. The room full of silent anticipation.
She's in Raymond Reddington's bed. Raymond Reddington's bed. In Raymond Reddington's suite. Her heart beating a steady rhythm. His gaze heavy on her, burning with intensity.
Her arms languish, splayed to her sides, her hair a wild mess from the damage he did in the elevator. Her dress hitched way too high and fallen way too low, twisted around her waist…she waits for the panic, the doubt to creep in, but it doesn't. She wants to be here, with him, like this. Her desire to be here…so strong…the moment she acknowledged it.
She reaches with her eyes to meet his gaze. Feels it burn into her skin. His pupils are dilated and the look he gives her radiates lust. Pure unchecked desire. He's not in control. Way past control.
She's never seen this side of him, the side acting on emotion not reason. Not aware of his actions. Never seen him undone, let go. Seeing him look at her like this…the feeling is powerful. She did this to him, is doing this to him. She slides her tongue across her lip.
He reaches down and his finger traces the side of her face, her cheek, her mouth, the delicate skin below her ear. Runs down the veins of her neck. Lower. Slowly. Reverently. His breathing heavy in the quiet room.
The feelings filling her now warm and explosive, this trance she's in. He moves his free hand to her hip, caressing, the fabric of her dress unable to prevent the heat of his touch from reaching her skin. His skin.
Moves his hand up…the graceful hollow of her hip, the curves, down her arm. Hasn't touched anything intimate, yet the feeling loving, sensual. She moves under him, inches her hands to the top of her dress, but he holds her wrists and moves them away. Back to her sides.
She sighs heavily. This bliss. This dark abyss. Powerless to stop it once it began.
Xxx
He lowers himself to her. Runs his hand up and down her side. Feeling the curves and turns of her body. Curves and turns he's long been wanting to touch. Feel against his hands, savor her. Takes his time. Lets his eyes wander over her, study her, as he moves his hands this way and that. Runs his palm down the back of her thigh. Pulls it up and over him. Lowers his lips to hers again. Heat radiates from her skin and her dress is crushed, warm.
She shivers. The movement pulling him closer. Losing himself further. Moving without reason now. Acting without thought. Closer to her, closer.
She moves under him. Reaches for him with her body. Strains upward. Love, lust, and the white emotion in between welling up in his chest. Making his heart jump in ways he has only imagined in his mind. The reality so much better. Stronger.
And he is lost here with her. Powerless to stop the things he has started. With her. He grabs a handful of fabric, elegant and smooth, wraps it around his hand, tests it momentarily, and then pulls straight back. The seams pop and her dress falls to the foot of the bed.
The air between them heated now. Electric.
He sees the delicate lace, red even in the dim light, covering her, just barely. It's red, his gaze finds hers in the dark…the truth he sees in her eyes. The words. The thoughts. So clear.
His heart clenches.
She loves him. He can see it, she's not trying to hide it, she loves him.
He sees her stop, focusing on his face. Her mouth working on the words, working over them…
"Shh," he says, running his hand down her body. "I know. I already know."
The tears well in the corner of her eyes and he falls toward her again.
Outside the window the thin night clouds pass in front of the moon and extinguish the light in the room as the hours bleed into the morning.
Xxx
The sun has not yet arrived, the moon still high in the sky. A chill permeates the room and the click of the thermostat precedes the sound of warm air blowing through the vents. The clock reads 4am.
Red maneuvers across the bed, trying his best to distribute his weight evenly, not cause the mattress to dip or move. She's sleeping, her arm curled under her pillow. His Lizzie. She is his now. The proprietary thoughts having gained momentum in the last hours.
The moonlight coming through the break in the curtains illuminates her face. Her hair sprawls dark and tangled over the pristine cotton pillowcase. The corners of her mouth turn up in the hint of a smile, her lips red and swollen. She looks thoroughly and exhaustedly used…loved. The warm heat of possession spreads out from his chest. He did those things to her. With her.
She loves him. The thought filling him and threatening to spill over. Ignoring the tendrils of regret wafting through his thoughts, he leans over and softly kisses her temple. Her skin cool now. Soft. His scent on her, the ache. He straightens and stands. Eyes still on her.
The clock reads 4:15am.
He looks down at her, his thoughts bittersweet. Last night was worth any potential, anything. Her breathing full and soft.
He hasn't lost himself with a woman in over twenty years. Hasn't been able to let go. The drugs, the alcohol, the debauchery, never enough to crowd out his thoughts. His physical needs met, but the emotional ones…not loved a woman in so long.
Moving to the far side of the room he retrieves his shirt, his pants, his hat. Dressing quietly he reaches down to tie his shoes. Unroll the sleeves of his shirt.
Taking one last look at her sleeping form he turns and opens the door. Steps out of the dark room and into the night sounds.
Pulling his phone from his pocket he dials quickly then holds the phone to his ear. "Dembe…" The conversation moving out into the night air.
The first traces of day evident on the horizon below.
Xxx
She wakes to the golden morning light spilling into the room through the break in the brocade curtains. Her thoughts still waking, she sighs contentedly, the events of the night before replaying themselves in her mind. Wraps herself more deeply into the tangled cotton sheets. Her body feels liquid and spent.
Rolling over she looks through the other side of the bed where he should be, but there is no one there. No one sleeping. The imprint of his body still heavy on the sheets. He's gone.
Panic wells up inside her, filling each space and chasm. Her heart beating faster and adrenaline flowing out through her limbs. She doesn't move, just lets the cold wash over her, the hot precursor of tears pricking the backs of her eyes.
She loves him. So clearly now. She loves him. And her heart aches. The tears fall freely, tracing her face, running down and hitting the cotton below. The minutes run together and pass.
Blindly she reaches her arm out to where he was, where he should be, feeling only the soft chill of the sheets. The roughness of the comforter. Running her hand under his pillow her fingers bump into an angular object. She tugs it out into the light, absently, for further inspection.
Opening her hand she sees a hinged felt box. Raising herself to the sitting position she reaches for the box and unlatches the velvet top with a muffled click. Her breath catches on the exhale.
Inside the box lies the most beautiful ring she has ever seen. The diamond large but shallow, a polished skipping stone, the only color coming from the reflection of the soft brown fabric of the box. A thin yellow gold band circles the diamond, slightly squaring off at the edges.
She doesn't understand. Confusion scattering her thoughts her eyes scan the room.
Xxx
Out of the corner of her eye she sees the thin curtains hanging across the French doors flutter. The breeze wafting in and moving the air in the room. Touches of cool in the warm.
And then she sees him. Or the back of him rather. White shirt pristine, dark vest and pants, shoes. And she runs.
Xxx
He takes in her tear streaked face and his gaze softens. "It wasn't supposed to make you cry, sweetheart." He smiles at her, his eyes unsure.
"Where did this come from, Red?" She holds the box out in front of her, her facial expression wobbling between a heartfelt smile and further tears.
He exhales slowly, seems to ponder the question, and then sits down on one of the slatted wood chairs in the middle of the balcony. Grabs the fabric of his trousers at the knee and hitches his pant leg up at the ankle. He's been up awhile, the paper read and discarded on the table beside him.
He looks at her, pauses, and begins.
"I saw it," he gestures towards the box in her hand, "in a shop window in Paris. It was late in the evening, the stores were closed, no one else on the sidewalk. I remember the way the air felt, cool and wet on my face, and the way the night smelled. Full of spring and…life." He looks at her seriously then. Earnestly.
She interrupts him, "When was this?"
"Before I came back."
"Before I you came back from Belarus?" She hadn't noticed a change when she saw him in the Post Office war room last Thursday. He looked tired from his trip, haggard almost, complained about headwinds and departure times…but nothing was amiss, nothing different.
"No…after Anslo." Her heart jolts.
He continues as if the answer means nothing…doesn't give him away as thinking these things since…the gravity of the statement forces her down in the chair next to his. He reaches out, snakes his arm around the back of her shoulders, and begins to massage the vertebra of her neck with his thumbs as he speaks. Little circles, smaller circles, her breathing quickens.
"Anyway, in a sea of dark windows, a little light was on. A little light shining down on the most ostentatious dog collar of a necklace I'd ever seen." He pauses, humor and love lighting his smile. "And next to it, the most perfect little diamond ring."
"It made me think of you. That was my first thought. Didn't question it, didn't analyze it, just let the thought roll around in my head for the remainder of the evening. The night. It wouldn't leave me alone."
"And the next day I went back, walked the same street I had before, and located the little shop. The little jewelry store. Spoke with the proprietor, easily the kindest shop keeper I have encounter in the fair city, and bought the ring. Put it in my overcoat pocket and went on my way."
"And it went with me to my meetings that day. Sat through an exchange with an old associate so heated I wasn't sure if either of us, the ring or myself, would make it out alive. But we did."
"And then we sat together at dinner, the ring and I. Just the two of us at a cozy table by the window in a crowded café. It warmed me, that ring. I would open the box, see it, and think of you. It looked like you, like something you would like. Not something someone would like on you."
"And then we came back. Here, to the Post Office, to the list, and Dembe took the ring to a safe and deposit box, along with some priceless bobbles procured in another transaction, and there it sat."
"And I would think of it from time to time, sitting in the dark, in a box and I thought that maybe it was me the ring was for, not you. We shared so much in common after all. Both alone. Both isolated."
He takes a deep breath. She sees him waver. A moment of uncertainty. The emotion foreign on his face.
"And then came last night. And Lizzie," his voice slow now, the hand on her back moving to run up her arm, caress her cheek. His touch as intimate as the low hovering of his voice in her ear. "Lizzie I never expected you. Dreamed and hoped and fought with reason. But never expected. Not this…" Everything implied. Unsaid.
The pause silent except for the chirping of the birds. The wind moving through the balustrade. He's still here. Still here with her.
"And so last night, Dembe retraced his steps. Key in his possession. And retrieved this box", he gestures to the velvet box containing the ring, "from my box." Another pause. "And now you have it."
He looks at her. Waits for her response.
"That was a long story Red," her voice wobbling and round.
"That it was Lizzie," his smile real and the sparkle in his eye contagious, "but you asked where it came from."
"True. But what does it mean?"
"It can mean whatever you want it to Lizzie, whatever you choose."
His gaze pierces hers and she feels like he wants to say more but doesn't. Unsure of the implied meaning.
He stands and walks back to the railing. Looks down on the street below.
She walks slowly towards him, wraps her arms around him from behind, kisses his cheek and then lays hers on his. "I want you to stay…with me. I want to be with you. No more riddles. No more fear…that you might go. I want you to be with me."
For awhile he says nothing. Continuing to stare at the passing cars.
"Marry me Lizzie." His words barely a whisper.
His heart bracing.
She pulls away. Looks at him but his face gives nothing away. She lays her cheek back on his back.
"I'll be damned if it makes any sense, I have no right to ask, but please, after all of this, consider it. You're only safe if I'm far away or right beside you, and God knows if I'm with you…I can't not be with you. Not after last night. Not after this…" he gestures to her.
"Marry me. Come away with me. Be with me." His voice stronger now. His worried look softens. Turning towards her he adds. "How's that for direct? Nothing to decode there."
"Yes," she says, joy filling her face. "Yes."
And he is done. Pulls her against him and let's the morning light overtake them both. The sun full and round.
Xxx
So, I changed things up to give this story a happy ending…did it work? To fluffy? Comments always appreciated!