After the phone call they wander back to the car, each consumed in their own thoughts. Neither speaks during the long drive home. He glances over at Liz; she looks as if she is warring between grinning in triumph and drowning in sorrow. She hasn't looked at him since getting into the car.
The women on the phone, Sarah, said that the Cabal had suffered copious causalities. Reddington's men had gone in ruthless and ferocious, more so than usual. Their last confrontation was still raw and stark in their minds, so Red had given them the chance for revenge.
Harold had been located and rescued, whisked out of the country to join his family in Amsterdam. They were safe.
Red focuses his attention back onto the road; grip unnecessarily tight on the steering wheel as he plans out their next steps. Though Raymond barely ever slept, the few hours he used to manage to glean had become allusive. Memories of the journalist executed on her knees in Auckland plague him, so similar to Luli's death. He'd need to put contingencies in place to protect the rest of them. If Lizzie were to find out she'd despise him more than she already does.
"What now?" she asks quietly. She is still facing the window; her bare legs are tucked beneath her, the pads of her feet still sandy. Red's jacket is still draped across her shoulders.
"It's time to go," he practically sighs, "I need to speak with an associate in Siena. He'll be able to protect some assets from the Cabal for me."
"Do we get to say goodbye this time?"
Red thinks of Mia and the fury she would unleash upon him if he was to leave without bidding her goodbye. It's enough to make him laugh and Lizzie finally looks at him, the corner of her mouth quirking.
"I know what you mean about Mia being too smart for her own good," she comments quietly, "I wonder how often she has managed to talk sense into you."
Red just grins in response not willing to give the statement too much thought, in case the last conversation he and Mia had were to worm its way back into his conscious and keep him restless and anxious for the rest of the night. Judging how Lizzie was behaving on the beach Mia had also played counsellor with her.
Once they arrive back in the house they find the young girl splayed along the couch. She turns around and meets Red's eyes and smiles sadly. She lifts herself from the couch and gives Liz a hug, murmuring something into her ear, causing Liz to laugh quietly. She then turns her focus to Red, blues eyes dimming slightly. She hated it when he left.
"Come here," he says, grasping her forearm and pulling her into a hug. She buries her head into his chest and he chuckles. Liz watches on, her expression is sad as she meets Red's eyes. He releases Mia and she steps back, grinning up at him.
"Catch ya later, Red?"
"Of course," he replies stepping out of the door, "you'll get someone to come pick up the car?"
She nods her head and disappears back inside, staring at them through the window and waving as they drive away.
Lizzie sleeps most of the way to Siena, both in the car and during the flights, only rousing to depart the vehicles and to eat. Red lets her rest, watching over her. His lips twitch into a smile when she mumbles that Australia is so far away from everything. The travel is comfortable but long.
Red reluctantly wakes Liz from one of her naps as they finally arrive at the hotel. It is grand and luxurious, the food impeccable; Red has stayed here many times. The doorman, Giovanni, grins widely as Red steps out the car, rushing forward to grab Liz's luggage. He is greying at the temples, though he is young, his brown hair; curly. His eyes are a rich brown, like cognac, and he smiles easily.
"Ah! Giovanni! I take it the suite is ready?" Red says jovially, slipping his arm into Liz's and leading her up the marble staircase, their shoes clicking on the floor.
"Of course, Mr Edgecoombe!" the doorman responds loudly, walking them briskly to the elevator, waving off the receptionist telling the woman that he'd deal with it all later. Red smiles at Liz as her eyes wander around the reception, taking in the grand chandeliers that hang from the ceiling, the paintings that scatter the walls and the other patrons of the hotel, wealthy and well-dressed.
"Am I ever going to feel like I fit in?" she murmurs quietly and Red tightens his grip on her arm, not wanting her to feel self-conscious. He rakes his eyes over the individuals in the room before glancing back at the woman on his arm. He hesitates, but quickly kisses her on the cheek because she is the most beautiful woman in the room, even more so because she is completely unaware of it.
Her brow creases into a frown, but she doesn't comment on his behaviour. They step into the elevator; Red after Liz. Giovanni chatters and chatters telling Liz all the places Red should take her and what food to order and the wine to accompany them. She smiles widely at him, her posture relaxing as they finally reach the penthouse.
The room is beautiful, as Red remembers. Giovanni escorts Lizzie to the second bedroom and when he returns Red tips him handsomely. Once the excited doorman leaves the suite seems to be silent. Liz emerges from her room, smirking at him.
"You just make friends wherever you go, don't you?"
He laughs and wanders into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine and pouring them both a glass. She thanks him, her fingers brushing against his as she grasps the handle.
"Since you managed to get some sleep on the way here, Lizzie, I was wondering if you have enough energy to come out tonight, I have a contact I must meet with."
She readily agrees, much to Red's surprise. She asks whether she should dress up, where they were going.
"I was going to take you to the Piazza del Campo to see the races but unfortunately time has not been kind to us and there are none running," Red sighs, greatly disappointed even though Liz's just shrugs her shoulders, willing to go wherever he suggests. "So, we'll be going to Giovanni's restaurant."
"The doorman? He's your contact?" she asks, bewildered. Red shrugs nonchalantly because yes, Giovanni is his contact, what more does Lizzie need to know?
She huffs at him, taking a sip of her wine and then stills, her eyes widening slightly.
"He is a part of the mafia, isn't he?" she breathes and Red is greatly amused by the fact that she doesn't look afraid but extremely exasperated. She briefly worries her lip between her teeth and takes a larger swig of her wine. "I'll bring my gun."
She disappears into her room to get ready, while Red stares out towards the city. He runs his hand over the back of his head, hearing the rasp of his short hair against his skin. Giovanni would be able to track down the journalists easily, give them protective details and mislead the Cabal until they are fully exposed. Red will do his best to ensure the others survive this trial; Lizzie's freedom depends on it.
He notices when she steps back into the room, her reflection in the window staring at him. He takes a moment to compose himself as he turns around, because she looks divine. The soft blue of the dress matches her eyes, complements her hair and clings to her body as if it was specifically made for her. Well, technically it was. He briefly contemplates where she has hidden the gun.
"So, how exactly does a member for the Italian Mafia have a part time job at a hotel like this?"
"It's an easy way to meet clients, work out when the big names are in town. Hotels give a certain level of anonymity for criminals, but it's more difficult when the company they bring is so worth remembering."
She smiles at him shyly, grabbing her wine and taking another large drink.
"Planning for a big night, are we Lizzie?" he teases, as he palms his fedora on. She finishes her wine and flashes him a grin before exiting the suite.
Giovanni greets them by the elevator, wide smile firmly in place. He grasps Lizzie's hand and brushes his lips along her knuckles. She laughs quietly, eyes flickering over to Red. Giovanni was a well known bachelor within in Siena, his lean figure, chiselled cheek bones and eyes attractive to any woman.
They make their way out to Red's driver and slip into the car, chatting as they travel through the city. Giovanni's restaurant, run by his family, is tucked away. One of Red's little 'holes in the wall', somewhere he found in earlier in his life time, when he first went on the run.
He watches Liz as she watches Giovanni, laughing at the younger man's jokes and tales. He's acutely aware of when Giovanni's hand brushes over her own, or her thigh. Her blues eyes are so bright, and it hurts.
As a rule, I consider jealousy to be a base emotion.
So he joins in and laughs, telling his own stories when asked until they eventually arrive at their destination. Giovanni helps Liz out the car, leading her into the dimly lit building, her heels clicking on the pavement. Candles are on each of the tables, couples and families creating a rumble of chatter and noise as they eat their meals with gusto.
Giovanni sweeps them into a booth, telling them that he'll get them both drinks. Liz glances over to Red and she's smiling so much that he can't help but smile softly in return. She opens her mouth to say something, her eyes focussing on him seriously, but is interrupted by Giovanni's return. He places a cocktail down in front of Lizzie and a scotch before Red. Liz picks up her drink, the blue liquid clinging to the glass. She has a sip as Giovanni eagerly watches on.
"So?" He asks. His Italian accent is thick and excited, "what do you think?"
Her gaze drifts over to Red, steadily settling on him. Her lips quirk at the corner, and as she answers Red is thrown into the memory of one of their first cases. Oh, how things had changed.
"It tastes likes spring."
Giovanni, though delighted with this response, does briefly frown as his eyes flicker between the two companions. Red finally breaks the silent exchange between he and Liz, looking up at Giovanni and enquiring what their meals will be, hoping that Davide is making that delicious pasta he had last time he visited.
They sit and wait for their meals, Giovanni greatly interested in everything Liz has to tell him. The mobster's eyes do flicker over to Red occasionally however, wondering when they will get down to business. Red is waiting for Liz to go to the bathroom, and judging by the way she is drinking, it won't take too long.
As if on cue, she stands, swaying slightly as her hand lurches out to grasp Red's shoulder. He offers to escort her to the bathroom but she declines with a polite smile, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. She wanders off, Red's eyes tracking her through the restaurant.
"She is beautiful, Mr Reddington," Giovanni comments, grinning slyly at the man across from him, but receives only a curt nod of the head as an answer. They need to discuss the journalists before Lizzie returns.
He slides an envelope across the table, Giovanni accepting it immediately and sliding it into his jacket pocket. He leans forward slightly in his chair as Red begins to speak.
"Those are the details of a series of journalists I need protected at all costs. Set up a protective detail for them, keep them alive for as long as possible," Red instructs, eyes straying to the bathroom, seeing Lizzie manoeuvring her way through the crowd. "The envelope also contains an address where your payment will be dropped off tomorrow morning."
Giovanni nods in agreement and then smiles brightly as Liz slides into the booth across from him. Her thigh presses against Red. She has another drink before her; she has moved on to vodka now.
They eat their meals and drink their drinks, the evening stretching on. Eventually, Red noticing Liz's increasing intoxicated state suggests that it is time for them to leave. She feebly protests but eventually is escorted out to the car by Giovanni; he kisses her cheek lingering long enough for Red to clear his throat. They shake hands once Lizzie is safely in the car and bid each other farewell.
The entire drive back to the hotel Lizzie giggles and chatters. She talks with the driver about his family, making both the men laugh as she happily gasps at the photo of the driver's little girl. Her hands stray to Red, lightly brushing over his arms and thighs and sometimes across his collarbone as she talks to him.
When they arrive at the hotel Red manages to talk Liz into taking off her heels so she doesn't have to walk up the staircase in them. She passes them over to him grudgingly, before waiting for him to open her door and walk her to their room.
She's complaining that she feels ill by the time they reach the penthouse and are through the door. He takes her straight to her room. He unfastens her dress as efficiently as he can as she complains and groans. He makes sure that his fingertips do not brush her skin.
Red swallows as the dress pools around her feet, kneeling down to untangle her from the material. He quickly glances up her body to see that she is looking down upon him. Her gaze is heated, but blurred, as she slightly bends her knee. From where Red is positioned on the floor, kneeling before her, the inside of her thigh brushes against his cheek. He lets out a shuddering breath as her hand reaches down to rest on his head.
"I might need you to take that off for me, Red."
At first he doesn't understand what she's requesting, focussed as he is on the velvet of her skin pressed against him. He swallows, eyes drawn to the simple black underwear she wears, before he notices the gun strapped to her thigh. He jerkily nods and undoes the strap with shaking fingers, grabbing the gun and placing it on the bed. She thanks him quietly.
He leaves her for a moment, heading out into the kitchen to get her some water and some paracetamol. He stands by the sink, breathing deeply and preparing himself for whatever Lizzie was going to throw at him next. He just prays that she has managed to get some clothes on.
Red steps through the door and the glass of water slides from his hand, shatters onto the ground. Lizzie is passed out on her bed, on her back and choking on her vomit. He rushes forward; his hands hot against her skin as he gently turns her onto her side, trying to coax her awake, his voice more frantic than he wanted it.
She mumbles at him, coughing slightly, but her blue eyes flicker open, cloudy with alcohol. She wipes at her mouth, sitting up and breathing heavily.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, sounding teary. Red gently grabs her by the wrist, swallowing down his initial fear and adrenaline. He leads her to the bathroom, the contents of her stomach sliding down her ribs as she moves. She rubs at her skin in irritation, so he grasps her other wrist to stop her from spreading the mess, ignoring the wetness on his fingers.
He turns the water on in the shower waiting to get the temperature just right before he puts Lizzie under the spray. He sheds his jacket, vest and shoes, rolls up his cuffs and steps in after her. She just stands there watching him as he reaches for a flannel and some soap, gently wiping the vomit from her body.
"It doesn't taste like spring the second time," she mumbles in disappointment and Red huffs out a laugh, quickly skimming his hand over the material of her bra, trying to be as detached as possible. Her hands come to rest on his shoulders as she steadies herself.
"Will you stay with me, Red?" she murmurs, "I don't want to do that again."
He glances at her, eyes flickering over her flushed face. He nods his head, swallowing when she looks away. They step out of the shower together, Red's shirt soaked through and stuck to his skin. He gently towels her off and finds her fresh underwear and clothes to get dressed into. He goes into his own room to get into something dry before returning.
She is standing and staring at the mess she made on the bed. She sleepily raises her eyes, sighing slightly.
"Suppose it's your bed," she states and follows after him. She pulls back the quilt and crawls in first, eyes slipping shut almost immediately. Red smiles and slides in beside her. Sleep doesn't come easily, each sound Liz makes has his adrenaline spiking, but eventually it does come.
When he wakes in the morning, Liz's breath is puffing over his face and his hand is draped over her hip, tucked beneath the top she wears. Her skin is warm, but her breath sour. He briefly tightens his grip on her waist possessively before dropping his hand back to his side and waiting for her to wake.
Her blues eyes flicker open and she winces at the assault of light. Red's chest rumbles with laughter and when she opens her eyes again she is glaring at him.
"Don't expect any sympathy from me, sweetheart," he says, "If you plan on drinking yourself into oblivion again, do so in the company of someone else."
Her cheeks redden and she sits up, sliding out of the bed and wrapping her arms protectively around herself as she frowns down at him.
"You don't need to admonish me like a child, Reddington," she snaps and the only reply she receives from him is a raised brow. "I can look after myself."
He sits up, left cheek twitching in annoyance.
"You could have choked and died, Elizabeth," he practically snarls and her eyebrows rise slightly at his tone, not used to being the object of his anger. "And if you're that irresponsible again? What happens if I'm not there to help you?"
"And why wouldn't you be?" she retorts, matching his anger.
Her response shocks him and he almost recoils from her, because the only possible thing that could drag him from her side was his death. He locks their gazes together.
"You scared me, Lizzie," he says carefully, "please be more responsible, I'm not Sam, I shouldn't have to monitor your alcohol intake."
He notices as her face softens and her posture slackens slightly. She swallows, eyes quickly roaming his face before climbing back on to his bed and grasping his hand. Her eyes are intense as she stares at him.
"I'm sorry, Red; I won't let it happen again."
He nods at her, accepting her apology. She offers him a shy smile in return.
"Now," he begins, a grin spreading over his features, "should I make or order some breakfast?"
Liz groans and shakes her head at him and he laughs because she looks as if she has turned green at the thought. She buries her head into the pillows and he briefly runs his hand over hair. He can see that she is smiling.
"Maybe later then, sweetheart."
A/N; Thank you so much for your reviews and support!
