AN: Final chapter (?) of 'dat jelly fic' as I like to call it, because I can never remember any titles. Hope you all liked it, especially you, my little Brazilian nutjob. Special thanks to redisthenewblackington for beta-ing.

Disclaimer: check earlier chapters.

Chapter 3

She slept in on Saturday, her head only slightly pounding after all that wine she had consumed. She really should learn to lay off the white ones. They always gave her a dull pain in her head the day after. She took a long, relaxing bath, enjoying not going in to work for once. After soaking, she went to a small diner a block or so from her motel, and ordered some breakfast, or rather, lunch. She wanted to go to the bar again that night, not because she was usually one to go out three days in a row, or even just once, but because she wanted to see if Red would show up again. She didn't want to be the one that caved in first.

She chose a tight fitting red blouse that evening and paired them with black skinny jeans, before putting on some makeup, more than she usually would. Her hair was neatly combed, her natural curls going only slightly crazy on her, and she would leave it just like that, forgoing the use of a hair tie. She knew that Red loved it that way, remembered the nights she had spent resting against him and how he played with her hair, twirling the strands around his fingers. Not that she was doing this for him, of course not! Liz looked at her reflection in the mirror and then popped another button on her blouse, showing only a hint of the lacey bra she wore beneath. She couldn't wait to see his reaction.

Getting to the bar, she quickly found her usual spot and ordered a margarita, the color matching her blouse. Men were looking at her, but she was only looking for one guy tonight. An hour in, he still hadn't shown up, and Liz wondered if he'd had enough of this. Maybe she had scared him off when she let Adam take her home. Only minutes later, she felt the hair at the back of her neck stand up, an almost sure sign that the man in question had entered the room. She pulled at her blouse so that her breasts were a little more exposed, and ran a hand through her blonde hair.

She took a nonchalant sip from her glass and then looked up. She almost dropped the margarita at what she saw. He couldn't be serious. There was Red, sitting at his usual table, but he wasn't alone that night. Apparently, he had found himself some company, namely Samar Navabi. So far, he hadn't looked in Liz's direction; if he had he would've seen the look of pure shock on her face.

Liz couldn't help but watch the two openly. He still hadn't glanced at her once, but instead seemed captivated by the woman in front of him. He didn't hide how his gaze, once again, wandered to her chest, obviously liking what he saw, grinning. He touched the woman's hand, stroking over her knuckles and flirting shamelessly and Liz had to look away. She finished her drink and ordered another one, this time a martini, straight. She almost emptied it in one go.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone sat down in front of her. "You're quite the looker, babe. Couldn't resist coming over here."

Was that supposed to be a conversation starter? "Aha," she just replied, not encouraging any further talk.

He didn't seem to catch on, as he simply continued talking, asking questions, but not waiting for her to answer, all the time ogling her. But all Liz could do was watch the couple in the back, watched how Red reached out and tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, leaving his palm against her cheek. The smile he gave the woman was her undoing. She quickly stood and threw a couple of bills on the table, ignoring the confused stranger in front her. To her horror, she could feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She would not break down, not here, not now, and certainly not in front of the man who continued causing her pain.

Hurrying out of the bar, she aimlessly headed in one direction, tears now flowing down her cheeks. She should've known he would pull a stunt like that, should've known that he never really cared about her at all. She was through with this, getting hurt, especially by a person she cared so much about. The games were over.

Somehow she managed to get back to her motel, where she slumped onto her bed and continued crying. She couldn't seem to stop. It was just so unfair. Why wasn't she good enough to love? Clearly she wasn't more than a job to him, an obligation, probably because of something he had promised Sam. She just wished that she would've never fallen for his charm. Reddington was a puppeteer and she was his puppet, whether she wanted to realize it or not. His ex wife had been right; no one could make a woman feel like she was the center of the universe more than Raymond Reddington.

Wiping at her face, she got up and ripped her fridge door open, finding an almost full bottle of vodka. This would do just fine. She decided to forgo the glass and sat down on the floor in front of her bed, leaning her back against it before taking a long chug. The first sip was always the worst, the vodka burning in her throat and making her shudder. Usually, she wouldn't drink this stuff straight, would rather mix it with orange juice, but this night she couldn't care less.

Half a bottle later and several curse words thrown in the general direction of the man that caused her misery, Liz felt emboldened. Standing on shaky legs, she didn't even care to look for her jacket and instead just left the room. She wasn't one to drink and drive, but somehow it seemed like a good idea, a very good idea. She wanted to step on the gas and drive right through the bastard's front door. That sounded like a good plan for sure.

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Not knowing how she managed to drive the way without any incident, Liz got out of her vehicle and stumbled towards the front door. Banging her fists against the wood, she almost fell forward as it suddenly opened, revealing a concerned looking Dembe.

"Agent Keen."

"Where is he? Reddington!"

The man walked into the hall just as Dembe ushered her in, closing the front door behind her. "Lizzie, what's wrong?"

She stormed towards him, pushing at his chest and the force made him take a step back. "You bastard!"

"You've been drinking," he stated, before nodding at Dembe to give them some room. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I hate you!" The slap to his cheek took him by surprise and he quickly grabbed her wrist, before she could pull her arm back for another one.

She struggled against him, but he held her arm tightly in his. "Just how much did you drink, Lizzie? How did you get here?" Liz just glared at him. "How did you get here?"

"I drove, you asshole! Not that it's any of your business. Now let go of me!"

"Drinking and driving, Elizabeth? You should know better."

"Like you care!"

"I care. You know that I do," he replied evenly.

"Fuck you!" Liz spat, using her free hand to hit him in the chest.

He let go of her and took a step back. "What is your problem, Elizabeth? Why did you come here? Why are you so angry?"

"You damn well know! You know, but you don't give a damn!" She shouted, closing the gap between them and hitting him in the chest once again.

"Alright, enough!" He told her firmly, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Enough, Elizabeth! We're not having this conversation while you're drunk. Go sleep it off on the couch."

"Who do you think you are?! You don't get to tell me what to do!"

"The couch, Elizabeth. Now!" He tightened his hands at her shoulder. "Right now, or I will make you go. I am not playing around. Go into the living room and sleep it off on the couch," he ordered again. Then he turned and walked off, leaving her standing in the hallway.

Liz had to admit that she was feeling kind of woozy and really needed to sit down. She told herself that it wasn't because of what Red had said. Sniffling, she walked into the living area and sat on the couch, pulling her knees up and burying her face in the cushion. It didn't take long for the tears to resurface and soon she was crying again, for herself, for him, for her broken heart.

That was how he found her a little later. Still crying, although silently, her shoulders shaking violently. It broke his heart to see her like that and although he had an idea what this might be about, he couldn't know for sure. One thing was clear, they had to talk.

"Lizzie," he said softly as he walked up to her, so she wouldn't be startled. She didn't acknowledge him, but he could see that she was trying her hardest to stop shaking. Sitting down next to her, he gently touched her knee. "Lizzie."

"Don't," she croaked.

"Don't what?"

"Don't pretend you care."

He swallowed hard against the dryness in his throat. "But I do. I care, sweetheart. A lot. You must know that." She shook her head, but he couldn't quite make out her face, as her hair was hiding it from him. "Lizzie," he said again, as if the word was the key to end her suffering. He sighed and slipped his hand to the back of her knees, lifting them, so he could scoot closer to her, resting her legs on his thighs. He could see her stiffening, probably wondering what he was up to. "Drinking and driving, Lizzie? You know how dangerous that is."

Liz shrugged. "I'm not drunk."

"Mhm… maybe not. But you've had enough to drink to know just what could've happened. Not only to you, but others as well."

"I didn't come here to have you lecture me."

"Then why did you come here?" He asked.

"I'm starting to wonder the same thing," she replied and started to pull away.

Red held her legs against him. "No. We're not done here," he said. "Alright, so I admit that I was angry."

"You. You were angry. At me?" She asked incredulously, looking up at him.

He flinched at the tears on her cheeks. "Yes. I don't like being stood up by a woman."

"And I don't like it when my – when someone ogle's some other woman's breasts," she replied immediately, feeling anger running through her veins once again.

"Lizzie…" He gently stroked over her legs. "Is this because of Agent Navabi?"

She started pulling back at the question, not wanting to go there. "Let go. Let go of me, Reddington."

He didn't though. "Oh, Lizzie. As if I would ever want her like I want you."

"What?" She asked, her eyes big and round. Even though they were slightly red and her face was sticky with tears, she still managed to look absolutely beautiful.

"Sweetheart… I… I wasn't thinking that day. I thought it would hold up the pretense that you and I… that we… that there's nothing going on, not that there is anything going on anyway. But sometimes it's hard to not let my feelings seep through to the surface and I wouldn't want to compromise you."

"I don't understand," she replied, her voice fragile.

"I was angry, disappointed when you stood me up and… jealous when I saw you with that man. Somehow, I didn't see the mistake I've made before… I don't want Samar, she's nothing to me, Lizzie. I only wanted you to see that… that there are women that would go out with this old, sad man."

She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand over her face. "I don't think you're old," she said. "And I don't want to watch other women around you," she added quietly. Liz took a deep breath and looked up at him, seeing that he was watching her intently, hope shining in his eyes. It made her feel strong. "I get possessive, and I don't like to share what's mine."

He leaned down to her, his warm breath ghosting over her skin as he placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Lizzie… are you sure about what you're saying?" She couldn't remember a time when he had looked so scared. "You've had quite a bit to drink."

"I've tried forgetting. Tried getting rid of the fluttering feeling in my chest whenever I see you, when I hear your voice. Instead I've found myself coming to you day after day, because I didn't want to be apart from you, found myself sneaking into your bedroom to steal one of your worn dress shirts so I could inhale your scent whenever I missed you."

"You have one of my shirts?" he asked in amazement.

She nodded. "It's on the pillow next to mine. I hold it at night and pretend it's you next to me." Maybe the alcohol had loosened her tongue a little, but everything she said was true.

He leaned close again and kissed her eyebrow, nuzzling his nose over her skin, making her gasp. "Are you sure, Lizzie? Are you really sure?"

One of her hands flew to his arm that was resting on the cushion next to her, clutching at him. "I've wanted you for so long, but I'm so afraid to lose you."

His lips were on hers before she had even realized, and she couldn't help but moan at his softness, his taste, couldn't stop the mewl of protest when he suddenly pulled back, way too early for her liking. The smile on his face soothed her immediately. "I love you, Lizzie. I love you. And I promise you that there won't ever be anyone but you. You're everything to me."

Tears were already stinging at the back of her eyes again, happy tears this time. She reached out and took a hold of his shirt, pulling him close enough that she could wrap her arms around his neck, her lips finding his without hesitation.

They nibbled, licked and sucked on the other's lips with passion, their tongues gently stroking each other, performing the lover's dance. His arms were wound tightly around her, his body resting carefully half on top of hers. She never wanted to move again.

His arousal was painfully obvious to the both of them and Red pulled his lips from hers, his pupils blown. "We… we should take this slow," he said, panting slightly.

Her fingers gently scratched over his scalp. "We can take this slow tomorrow. I want you."

"Oh, god, Lizzie," Red groaned. "You're bad influence, sweetheart."

She pushed her bottom lip into an adorable pout. "Don't you love me?"

"I do," he replied immediately. "I love you, so much."

Lizzie grinned and hugged him tightly to her, kissing the shell of his ear, tilting her head when his lips touched her sweet spot under her earlobe. "I love you, too," she whispered quietly.

He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a mixture between a growl and a moan and bucked against her.