Hello, thanks for all the comments, follows and favs - Cant believe how well people have responded, especially to the last few chapter. This is the last chapter of my story although I do have a little epilogue coming.
Thanks again to everyone xx
In the coming weeks Red shields her from her colleagues, always accompanying her, ready with some quick witted answer or distraction. She thinks, or at least she hopes, that his constant vigilance has been enough to dissuade Meera from further probing. Some evenings they discuss what the future holds knowing that in their situation it's when, not if, the change will come.
Finally they feel comfortable enough to let her visit the Blacksite alone, not for extended periods but initially for an hour or two. When things continue as normal she lets down her guard slightly. Red is not so sure so she promises to share with him any concerns. Nothing occurs, not for weeks.
This is why Elizabeth is surprised when she enters the meeting room one day, finding AD Cooper, Ressler and Meera waiting. She feels the atmosphere alter as she enters, and finds herself wondering why it feels like more of an interrogation than a briefing.
Red is off site, they've waited to catch her on her own. Unknown to them he's planning on coming in later and she hopes she won't have to wait long before back up arrives.
"Take a seat" Ressler says, not looking at her or using her name.
"What's this about?" She asks hesitantly, knowing instinctively that the briefing was little more than a ruse to draw her in.
"We need to speak to you about Reddington. We're concerned that you've been compromised" Cooper says, the three of them examining her for any tell.
"Compromised? In what way? I have not for one moment neglected my duties; I have continued to work with Reddington as directed by you. I have shared all intel with the team and we have successfully apprehended and detained a number of Blacklisters since Red's return. I don't want to overstate my contribution but you can both attest to the facts that I have shielded my colleagues from danger when required." She says looking at Donald and Meera as she finishes. She's laying out the evidence, knowing that it should be enough but that it won't be.
They sit silently, obviously not having expected her to mount such a vigorous defence.
Then Meera pipes up, "Liz, we're not questioning your contribution, but we have some concerns about the nature of your relationship with this highly dangerous and valuable FBI asset".
Elizabeth can't help the look of distaste that appears on her face, she knows how they regard him, but in using those terms with her they are obviously hoping to provoke a response. She remains quiet, thinking what best to say next.
"And have you discussed your concerns with the highly dangerous but valuable FBI asset?" She says her voice thick with contempt.
"Cut the crap Keen... Or Scott ... Or Reddington or whatever name you're using now" Ressler says, his tone abrasive, flustered and hard.
"Agent Ressler" Cooper says in warning. "Let's keep this professional, shall we?"
"I don't have to listen to this. If you wish to discuss this further then I suggest you set up a meeting, involving all parties, instead of trying to ambush me" she says standing and leaving the room.
Cooper and Meera watch her go but Ressler's not ready to back down, he's been waiting for this confrontation from the moment Red handed himself in and asked for her.
She walks the corridor to her office, her heart pounding, her ears ringing. She knows the accusations are true but she's enraged about their approach, the derogatory implications to her as an Agent.
Ressler follows her into the office, he invades her space. She can see a vein throb in his temple. She knows he's angered beyond anything she's ever seen but she means to hold her own against him.
"You heard me back there. I won't be ambushed, not by you, not by the FBI" she almost shouts, pointing at him, and then pointing out towards the control room.
"You're not denying it!" He rages.
"We're done here. Get out!" This time she doesn't hold back, shouting the last words.
"Are we done? I don't think so. I don't remember getting the inter department memo directing us to whore ourselves out in order to facilitate the apprehension of wanted criminals" Donald says, his words coming fast, his voice angry.
"Donald" Red says in warning from the door; his tone dark but his voice even; those features combining to produce a threat more unnerving than any shout or scream.
She hadn't realised he was standing there, her view blocked by Donald's imposing frame, which he'd brought close in order to intimidate. He doesn't turn to look at Red but he backs marginally away.
"Adjust your tone" Red says casually moving inside her office.
Donald almost snorts, stepping further away and turning to face Red as he advances into the room.
"And should you have anything unpleasant you wish to say at anytime in the future, I suggest that you first direct your remarks to me". Red continues, his eyes now appraising her. If he wasn't speaking to him it would almost be as if Ressler wasn't even in the room.
The threat is in his tone, in the cadence of his voice, in his choice of words, it is so apparent that he doesn't have to look. Donald may be armed but it's obvious where the danger lurks in her small office.
Lizzie looks at Red, and he gives her a small conciliatory smile. He knows she's offended by Donald's words, almost as much as he is. He tells her with his eyes and expression everything needed to refute Donald's accusations.
He lifts his hand to cup her face, a gesture he often does when they're alone, he is unconcerned about the witness to their intimacy.
"Jesus" Donald exclaims, outraged at Red's boldness despite his presence.
"Lizzie" Red continues unperturbed, looking deeply into her eyes. "Let's call it a day, shall we?"
He thinks about Donald's words, their implications and ferocity. He recognises the catalytic property they possess, even if Donald himself is too ignorant to grasp it. Things have been said aloud, not just to them but about them, things that cannot be unsaid, things that tilt the axis of their world.
He steps aside and follows her as she exits. Donald watches them, his outrage manifesting in the bustling movements and disjointed words that follow them from the room.
By the time they near the elevator he has his hand on the small of her back, by the time they reach ground level he has taken her hand. In the car he wraps his arms around her. In that embrace, in the silence, they acknowledge the change that has arrived; it is irrefutable and immense but not feared by either of them.
Like the turn of the tide or the change of the wind they find themselves in the lull, in the eye of the storm. The greatest danger lies in what's just passed and in what's immediately ahead but still they do not shrink from it, nor do they cower in fear. Instead they move, meeting it head on and greeting it like an old friend.
They go to her house and as she gathers her essentials he prepares a meal, like he has done each evening since that first night when they silently accepted their mutual desire to be together.
After the meal they sit quietly, enjoying the wine and each other's company.
"Do you have all that you need Lizzie?" he asks.
"I think so" she says. "It's hard to know what to take and what to leave".
"Bring anything you wish to see again. We won't be back." he replies tenderly.
"I'm just going to get my bag and have a last look" she says standing from her seat. He stands at the same time, moving to clear the glasses.
"Leave the bag; I'll get it before we go. Take your time" he says before kissing her lightly on her cheek.
She mounts the stairs in the home she's willingly leaving for the man that she loves. It strikes her that she's not just leaving her home but leaving her life too. Then she reasons that the time without him was not much of anything so it is a sacrifice worth making.
Quietly she walks the rooms upstairs, memories surfacing for her spontaneously. It doesn't occur to her until she settles on the edge of the bed that those memories all feature Red. She sits, waits, before moving to meet the future.
She descends the stairs and re-enters the kitchen finding him settled at the head of the table. She expects to find the table empty but instead she sees champagne flutes, filled already from a bottle she supposes he's had chilling.
"What's all this?" She asks him.
"I thought we might like to toast the past, the future" he says offering her a glass.
She takes it and moves to sit at the seat nearest his. When she looks up she sees a small box between them, she didn't see his hand move but she knows it wasn't there when she entered the room.
Her eyes snap up to meet his; he has a modest but genuine smile on his face.
"Red?" She says. Her tone questioning but she smiles too, her breath exhaling in a shudder.
He leans in across the corner of the table, kisses her softly, and then says, "I bought this five days after I left. I carried it with me every moment; everywhere I went, every country I visited, every city I stayed in. It was there with me in every room, reminding me of you. Truthfully I didn't know if you would ever accept it but I needed the promise of it. It kept me going, you kept me going".
Tears well in her eyes, she just looks at him knowing the certainty of his love, "what are you asking me?" She says finally.
"Lizzie you know what I'm asking, and I will happily say the words if that's what you wish." he says softly, looking into her eyes.
"I don't need that." She says with a smile but then in a tide of emotion she covers her mouth with her hand attempting to suppress the sobs that threaten to overtake her. He reaches over the corner of the table to hold her, pulling her up to stand and into his embrace.
"Lizzie, I love you. Things will change in our lives, things might become unrecognisable in the coming weeks but you will always be able to rely on that fact; on me. I promise you that modest consistency in the face of what might be turmoil and uncertainty" He tells her as she calms and begins to reign in her emotions.
"Thank you" she responds still enveloped in his embrace. He then moves back and leans down to lift the box, which as yet she hasn't seen inside. He opens the box, removes the ring and places it back on the table. Carefully he lifts her hand and places the ring on her finger.
She looks down to see a large emerald cut diamond, in a vintage platinum Art Deco setting. On the shoulder sit smaller princess cut diamonds, nested together framing perfectly the main stone. It is stunning, but given his exquisite taste she never had a moment of doubt.
They stay for a while longer, celebrating with the champagne. She'll remember this night: how happy they were. She'll remember the pleasure she took in seeing him laughing at something she's said, his joy filling the atmosphere and lingering there.
He listens to her while she talks, thanking whatever merciful power that brought her into his life. He knows he'll never tire of her company, knows he'll always bask in the glow of the happiness that consumes him now.
As they finally take their leave, when he's most worried that she'll hesitate, she turns to and says the word she didn't manage, couldn't manage earlier, "yes" she smiles, "always yes". He knew it in his heart, not needing the words to reinforce his knowledge but when she says it he feels whole.
Then together they step out of her front door and for all intents and purposes off the face of the earth.