He's back! ... and I hope you think it was worth the wait! Thank you for the reviews and follows again. It really is a big boost and motivation to keep going! Thanks again xx
Chapter 3
On Friday she gets to work as early as she can. She revisits all the intel gathered since the failed raid and spends countless hours pouring over it looking for any clue or indication of Red's whereabouts and status. But it's fruitless. Meera senses her unease and suggests the three take themselves off again, that a change of scenery would help them all.
In the bar Meera order drinks and brings them a series of glasses.
"What's this?" Elizabeth says as she eyes one of the shot glasses suspiciously.
"Tequila" Meera responds placing one in front of her.
Elizabeth pushes the glass away; she needs a clear head if she's ever going to figure this out. Meera pushes it back at her.
"Elizabeth, I think we need some distance, maybe a little perspective if we're ever going to find him" she knows it's a stretch and she can't see Elizabeth going for it but she has to try. Both she and Ressler drink their shots then reach for a larger glass that looks like it contains margarita. Elizabeth watches as they continue to drink, almost laughing at Donald drinking his not so manly cocktail.
Eventually she looks at Meera and says, "If this is going to happen then I'm going to need some lime". And with that she lifts the shot and drinks it down. They continue in the bar for a few hours, talking over things and throwing out ideas.
When Elizabeth gets home she thinks that Meera is right. She does need a little distance. Her thoughts are less stagnant than they've been and she feels more alive. This can surely only be a good thing in their search.
Weeks pass again and now Red's been gone for more than a year. Dembe hasn't been in contact despite numerous attempts by Elizabeth to reach out to him.
Despite the injuries sustained on the raid and Coopers increasing reluctance, she's continued to work in the field with Meera and Ressler. She tries not to be as reckless but she feels more fearless each time they head out. What has she got to lose that she's not already lost? In fact, what she got to lose that she's never actually had?
Outside of work she continues to see Meera and Ressler. One particular Friday night, following a long and arduous work week, they arrange to celebrate Meera's birthday. They know they'll have the weekend to recover so they plan to actually go home and change instead of heading straight to their usual dark bar.
Elizabeth surveys her wardrobe finally deciding figure hugging black jeans, tank top and killer heels is as dressed up as she's going to get. Slipping into the jeans she thinks they're more spacious than she remembers, she hasn't noticed the weight loss that's accompanied her loss of appetite. She grabs a blazer and heads out.
Meera has brought a number of friends and even Donald hasn't turned up alone so they are quite a crowd. The club is hot, dark and packed and it's like another world. Elizabeth doesn't know if it the deep, loud beat of the base but she feels like another person, like another person living another life. Maybe her name change, her new (old) name will be a fresh start. She's not the same Elizabeth and she no longer feels like Lizzie.
By the time she feels like dancing most of the party have already had one too many and headed home. Donald and Meera get ready to leave and assume she will go with them but she's not ready. For a year she's hibernated, barely existed, and now she feels something.
When they leave, which takes a lot of persuasion, she goes to the bar and orders another drink. She carries it and her small clutch bag to the edge of the dance floor and watches the crowd move. It takes another few drinks before she's ready to be more than a spectator. She wishes Meera hadn't gone because it would be easier if she weren't alone but the alcohol fuels her and she steps in.
She's lost on the dance floor; completely someone else. She interacts with strangers and before she knows it they've left the club for some bar that they claim is open all night. And so follows more drinking and much more dancing.
Somewhere in the night she checks her phone and sees several missed calls from Ressler and Meera. Meera's also text; asking where she is. She sends a quick response explaining she's out, adding a witty 'don't wait up!' It's at that moment she surmises that she's had enough to drink and finally decides to leave.
Outside the cool air catches her by surprise. She wanders up the street in search of a taxi and feels her phone vibrate again in the small bag.
She squints at the screen when she retrieves it, rolling her eyes when she sees it's Donald calling her again.
"Keen, where the hell are you?" He hisses in a low voice.
"I'm still out Donald. I know you went home to your slippers and pipe hours ago but imagine living a little" she replies glad he can't see the stagger that her gesticulation brought on.
"Well we've been called in so I suggest you get your ass down here pronto" he continues ignoring her jibe.
Immediately she feels a bit more alert, a bit more concerned. "What? Donald I've been out since you left. I am not fit for work"
"I don't think it can be avoided" he replies. She hears Ressler delicately explaining her situation but it seems it's to no avail as the phone is handed off.
"Keen this is Deputy Director Cooper. I'm commanding you to get yourself to the Post Office immediately. Am I clear Keen? Immediately!" Cooper orders none too politely.
She wants to tell him about the state she's in. About how much she's had to drink and how this will affect her judgement, reaction time, ability to do her job or anything effectively but she knows from his tone that it'll fall on deaf ears. The only place Elizabeth Keen should be going is bed but instead she says, "Yes Sir, I'm on my way."
She finally finds a taxi and gives him an address. She gets out at the end of the road and walks the short distance to the Post Office. Her small bag contains a few items but no ID to help her access the Blacksite. She has to wait till Meera comes up to identify her and she's issued with a temporary replacement badge.
Meera seems worried and tries to explain why they've been called but Elizabeth can't keep up. She's had too long a night and too much alcohol. Through the haze she hears something about shocked and sorry and how they've tried to contact her all night. She smiles to reassure Meera, hoping whatever this is can be resolved quickly and she can finally get the sleep she now desperately needs.
They exit the elevator and make their way in the direction of the control room. She's not looking around, not aware of the buzz and activity. If she were she'd know that something major was going on. It hasn't been this busy in months. It hasn't been this busy in over a year. It hasn't been this busy since Raymond Reddington disappeared.
Meera begins to lead her down the metal staircase. Just as she's about to begin descending, she cast an eye over the room. It's instant and almost primal. She feels his presence as much as sees him. She knows she's staring into the eyes of Raymond Reddington but in her intoxicated state she wants to get closer. She descends the stairs carefully. On the main floor she places her clutch on a nearby desk and continues to make her way towards him.
Raymond Reddington feels it too. From the moment she enters his line of sight he's transfixed. She's changed, he frowns knowing she not taken care of herself. She's lost her curves and is dressed in uncharacteristically, if understated, sexy clothing. For everything that's different there's still one thing that's insurmountable; she's still his Lizzie.
He watches as she descends the stairs and sees in her cautious movement that she's drunk, further gone than he's even seen her. He knew she's been out. It's why he chose this exact moment to walk back into the FBI. He wanted her with her shields down, unsuspecting and unprepared. He wants an honest reaction from her not her FBI, pseudo psychological, criminal profile training.
She places a small bag on a desk near the stairs and sways perceptibly as she continues her progress towards him. He doesn't move to close the gap. She's coming to him and he's letting her. She slows as she gets closer. Her eyes are sweeping his face looking for signs of how he's spent his year. Searching for some tell about whether he's struggled or lived well.
She can't see anything but wonders if she's just missing the obvious because she's lacking sleep and sobriety.
When she's close enough to touch she lifts her arms touching the silk of his vest. He's dressed impeccably as always, his suit jacket resting on a chair back, while he stands commanding the room.
Her left hand rises further, moving around and over his right arm and her right circles his waist. Raymond Reddington is not a man who likes to be caught unawares so he immediately reacts to her touch, pulling her into a firm embrace.
Her eyes close for a few moments while she drinks in his warmth, his scent. Her cheek rests on his freshly shaved skin, it's soft and seductive. She breathes deeply, wanting to savour this moment; the peace that comes from his return. Slowly she begins to extract herself; it feels like she's unravelling their bodies. When she lifts her face she pauses at his ear and whispers, so only he can hear, "welcome back... I've missed you", before stepping away and continuing her earlier fruitless examination of his features.
She still can't gauge his appearance. On the surface all seems well so she smiles a warm, welcoming, relief filled smile at him. A smile that her pain and insecurities would hide from him if her defences weren't down. But they are, and Red sees what he'd hoped for during those long months apart.
Slowly she pivots on her killer heels. He extends a hand, assuming rightly that she'll need steadied. With only a brief touch she rights herself, faintly giggles and walks away.
He watches her without word and without movement. Only his eyes track her as she retrieves her bag and retreats up the staircase from which she'd descended only moments ago.
There is a reverent hush in the room. It seems to extend moments after she leaves. They were all surprised by Red's sudden reappearance, but from the moment of his arrival, anticipation of Red and Lizzie's reconciliation was on everyone's mind.
Ressler and Meera lock eyes when the silence starts to lift; when everyone lets out the collective breath they didn't realise they'd holding. Their penetrating stares communicating what they cannot say aloud.
"Well that went rather better than expected" is all Red says before he moves to follow Elizabeth. Ascending the stairs he walks the gantry to her office but finds it empty. He knows that in her state she can't have gotten far. He thinks about how fragile she looked, how in need of rest and recovery she is and turns in the direction he knows she's gone.
Red approaches the box; the cage that held him captive and protected him in turn. He can see at a distance that she's there on the makeshift bed. She's on her side, her shoes are off but otherwise she looks exactly as she did moments ago. Too thin, too tired. She's already asleep, the alcohol and the relief assisting her escape.
Red watches her closely, it's a deep sleep but not altogether peaceful. He lifts a blanket from the bottom of the bed and gently covers her. He takes a seat close by and during the few hours that she slumbers he guards her, soothing her with touches and words that keep even her most frequent nightmares at bay.