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The morning light is glorious; reflecting on the already thawing snow to create a brightness that is gentle and optimistic. Even before you are fully awake it is the kind of light that leaks in and enhances your already good mood. It reinforces such feelings through the ambient warmth it provides. It's enough to counteract the worst of the lost heat and under a pile of blankets it's difficult to perceive a difference between this morning and any other; except there is a difference.
Red smiles as the memories come to him in waves, her body, her lips, and the delicate taste of her warm skin. As he drifts closer to consciousness he smiles but it slowly begins to fade as his senses begin to return and he knows she's no longer with him. It doesn't completely desert him then. It waits, malingering until he hears only Dembe; until he sees for himself that she is no longer in his bed, in his room or indeed in the house.
Red dresses as Dembe ventures out to restore the heat. He pulls on his suit and prepares himself for the day ahead. Today more than most days it will be his armour, his shield. But it's the kind of protections that keeps things in rather than keeping others out. One might stop to wonder if it's more of a cage than a safe haven but those are the kind of thoughts that he wears the suit against. What has he really lost? What has he got to hide that wasn't already well concealed beneath his bravado and the years of famine he's already endured?
All the same, Raymond Reddington isn't the type of person to run and hide. He is confrontational in the most benign way. But sometimes it's far from benign. He and Dembe leave for the Post Office; the snow has begun to dissipate, almost as quickly as it arrived. When he gets there he plans to address this matter, and if he can manage to contain his raging temper then he might still escape further incarceration.
The look in his eyes as he entered Liz's office is murderous. She'd planned to avoid the topic, sidestep the awkward conversation he would surely want to have. Even as she planned it she knew Red is not the kind of person who simply skips the awkward conversation. Often he seems to revel in it. From his quietness, his restrained, even guarded movements she's now wondering if she'll get out of the room alive. He waits to speak, perhaps purposefully waiting for her apprehension to mount. Liz can't let him best her; not now, not here, maybe never.
"You realise how dangerous your actions were Lizzie?" Red says slowly, quietly. Liz maintains eye contact but she doesn't respond. "Waking up alone, that was quite something; not at all what I expected. Not at all what I was promised." Red waits for her to speak but continues when he realises she won't. "But leaving, in those conditions, that was reckless beyond measure; far beyond what I consider to be tolerable". Liz just stares back; is he really concerned by the event of her leaving or is it more the fact that she left? No doubt he'd be more aggravated if he knew just how treacherous it had been to navigate her way back to more reasonably passable roads. Shame silences her; the shame of panic, of running, of retreating from him. This is amplified by the ghost of his hands on her, the memory of the heat from his mouth, the undeniably satisfying ache in her body, in her limbs from the hours they spent together. All of it is instantly recalled as she sees him in front of her; sees his lips, the very ones that devoured her, hears the words, and the same voice that tenderly adored her.
Then he leaves and Liz is alone. It is utterly silent, suffocating isolating. He is leaving her to her own thoughts; either to draw conclusions or to torture her further. She can't tell and at that moment both feel the same. It's difficult to move, to function or to get on with things. Liz is simultaneously sure she's done the right thing and positive that she's made the worst mistake of her life. She needs someone to talk to, but the only person who she is close enough to share this with, the one who would make it his business whether she wanted him involved or not, just walked out on her in a seething rage and she knows it would be unwise to follow.
After what feels like an eternity Ressler returns and she's forced to make believe once again. She turned her back on the truth last night, she wonders if she'll ever have it again.
The first few times they see each other their relationship feels surprisingly normal. Curiously glances from the team suggest that things aren't quite as they ordinarily are but she thinks it's a damn sight better than she thought it would be.
They are deep into planning for number seventeen. Isla Bennett's number is up as far as Raymond Reddington is concerned. He's been aware of her for years and though they've had occasion to meet socially, she is always very hesitant to divulge. On the surface there are elements of her business that are not dissimilar to Red's, perhaps that's why she's so cautious. But that's not what interests him. It's her ferocious underworld reputation that has drawn him in. How can someone so seemingly innocuous, by comparison at least, be so feared? This one is literally a legend in her own life time. Isla Bennett has a public persona akin to a wealthy, influential socialite but she is so guarded, her business and skills are difficult to pinpoint. That is why Raymond Reddington is so determined to find out what she is hiding.
To the uneducated eye it would appear that Red is facing down his most dangerous adversary just when he feels he has the least to lose. To the educated eye it would tell exactly the same story.
It takes a lot to convince Cooper to pursue Seventeen. Red suggests that the evidence required to convict or at least justifiably hold her will all be gathered during the operation. In the following weeks he hands them a couple of easy marks and tempts them with the idea that Seventeen is something they can sink their teeth into. When Cooper finally agrees they discuss how to infiltrate her network but so much mystery surrounds her organisation, her business, that in the end they all acknowledge the only way forward is for Red to make contact.
The first occasion he sees her they exchange a few pleasantries, as passing acquaintances are inclined to do. Then like a bad penny Red starts to show up more regularly in her life, oozing charm, ingratiating himself in an easy non threatening way. They couldn't have picked anyone more suited to the job, Red is born to it and before long Bennett is won over by his attention.
Watching from the sidelines is difficult for Liz. She feels like the closer he gets to Bennett the further he is from her. When she left him that morning she hadn't foreseen this. She hadn't considered what he meant to her or what losing him might mean. It's painful and bitter and she hides it with everything she has.
The next meeting is a Christmas Eve Benefit Gala both have been invited to attend. Though Bennett has declined to RSVP given her need for privacy, she's indicated to Red that she intends to be there. The deeper they get the more cautious the whole team become. There's no hard evidence but there are enough disappearances and rumours to worry them all. They have agents in every area of the ballroom and microphones and cameras installed around the table Bennett and Red are sure to occupy. They hardly expect her to reveal anything but it seems like a necessary precautionary measure.
Red is waiting at the table, dressed to the nines in his tuxedo when Bennett arrives, "Raymond" she greets him. This is the first time Liz has been present with the surveillance team and hearing the familiarity with which Bennett address Red jolts her. Red stands and greets her warmly, his touch lingering, his lips ghosting over her cheek as he leans in to whisper something. Their movements are intimate and Liz feels like a voyeur. There is something so familiar about his action yet so entirely different. She feels a flush rise to her cheeks. Try as she might she can't detach herself from the events unfolding on the screen in front of her.
Liz is subjected to an evening of what could have been. She sees Red bestow his attention on a more than willing recipient. She tries to read him, to see whether this is genuine or simply all part of the play but she can't tell and because she can't tell she fears the worst. She sits in silence as they talk; laugh together, as they dance. She thinks if the setting had been a little more private that she'd get even more of a show.
Her unfaltering observation means that she's the first to take notice when they return to their table and Bennett initiates a new conversation. She lifts her hand to focus the others and soon they are all captivated as they finally hear something more than banalities from their mark. "Raymond I have some business to attend to that will take me out of town for a short time".
Red reaches for her glass, hands it to her before leaning in close, his arm resting on the chair behind her, "Could I offer assistance; expedite the process?"
Bennett smiles, there is no doubt she's buying this, Liz is buying it, the whole team think both Red and Bennett have it bad, and many of them fear they'd make an invincible vicious criminal duo. "There is no need, the matter is in hand" she tells him, resting her hand on his thigh, "I'm required to visit Davao in the Philippines. I own a private Island off the coast; it has secluded property that I far too rarely make use of. I wondered if we might mix business and pleasure. Christmas is the sun?"
Even from the surveillance van, even through the poor quality FBI issue cameras they can see Red's smile, the mischievous twinkle in his eye. If his expression is anything to go by then in his head he's already there. In Liz's head he's already there too. His naked flesh enjoying the heat from the sun, the warmth of the ocean and the naked flesh of his companion. Liz zones out. Red and Bennett don't hang around much longer but she couldn't offer any details about what happens and who says what, even if she was asked.
At the debrief it is clear how wrong footed they've been. The mission has stepped up a gear and they are far from prepared. They have no international surveillance planned, and as such Dembe will be there only means of staying in contact with Red. They do what they can but when it's clear their efforts are too little too late Cooper dismisses them, telling them to be back at the Blacksite at 7am.
It's midnight when Liz walks in her front door. "Merry Christmas", she says out loud as she steps into the dark empty house. She goes to the kitchen and pours a glass of wine, 'I won't cry' she repeats over and over in her head to ward off any other thought. In the grand scheme of her life, the man that she's slept with only once meeting someone new isn't something should lose sleep over. But she knows she will. She stands in the kitchen until her glass is half finished, she tops it up and takes it with her into the living room. She puts on a side light, the soft glow filling the room with the impression of warmth and comfort.
Sitting on the sofa she tries in vain not to think of Bennett and Red. Yet she immediately pictures them, already at the airport, their intimacy now more tactile given that they are soon to be alone. She groans, closes her eyes. When she's silently cursed her life some more she opens them, her eyes alighting on the Christmas tree she's hastily put up the previous week in the hope she might start feeling somewhat festive. It's tastefully decorated she thinks, not over adorned but with a collection of coloured glass ornaments and a luxurious golden ribbon carefully wrapped around. The star on top sparkles, even in the gentle glow from the lamp. The sight of it has been enough to distract her from her woes for a few minutes and she lets out a deep breath as she relaxes.
Liz's eyes continue to travel, taking in the shape of the branches, the angle at which it expands. She surveys the presents she's yet to deliver, the few she's been gifted, neatly tucked under the rim of the tree. Then her attention is taken by a small parcel, one that she's never seen before, one that she did not put there. She places her wine on the side table and stands up; cautiously moving forward before sitting on the floor at the foot of the tree like a child would do on Christmas morning. Liz lifts the parcel from the floor and places it in her lap. Her finger tips nudge the tag until it turns and she reads the Merry Christmas greeting in a familiar hand. Red, she thinks.
Inside her is a flicker of hope. In the face of all the evidence to the contrary she wonders if this is a sign that Raymond Reddington still cares.
Liz unwraps the parcel, pausing to take in the details of an intricate jewellery box. She opens the lid and sees a delicate rose gold locket nestled in a plush velvet interior. It's beautiful. She lifts it out of the box to get a closer look. There is a finely detailed pattern around the edges which continues onto the back. Liz is stunned. She can't tear her eyes away from it. Even without opening, there is a secret to this locket, one that Liz has so far failed to see. There is an inscription on the back so small she almost misses it, overlooks it thinking it just makes up part of the overall pattern.
But another careful examination leaves her intrigued and she squints to get a better look, all to no avail. "Damn it, Red" she says out loud as she picks herself off the floor and starts hunting the shelves and cupboards for the old magnifying glass she found among Sam's belongings. Twenty minutes later she's still searching; she's given up twice, stomped to the sofa determined to let his message go unread. Each time she's barely settled when she gets up again to resume her search. When she finally finds it she flicks on the overhead light before sinking back to the floor beside the box and his gift.
Holding her breath Liz lifts the glass and stares at the inscription. It takes her a moment to focus and a moment more to realise that it's not even written in English. It reads, 'i deditionis ad te'. She would roll her eyes if she wasn't already certain that this was important, that he was admitting something to her. Without knowing what the words are this feels pivotal; a sign that he had forgiven her, that he loves her despite her mistake.
Liz starts her computer and because she can think of no better alternative she enters the phrase into Google Translate. Her heart almost stops when the translated words appear, 'I surrender to you' the inscription says when it finally gives up its secret.