Disclaimer: All rights for "The Blacklist" belong to Jon Bokenkamp and NBC.
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read the first chapter, left a review or PM and even decided to stick around for the second one. It means more than I can say. Getting back to writing stories feels like relearning an instrument at the moment, and well... ;))
My thanks belong to jessahmewren for being an absolutely wonderful and supportive beta.
"No." Liz laughed. "There is no way I'm going to try that."
Steve was leading them over the dance floor and doing his best to charm her into a third dance with him.
"The change between gravity and weightlessness on such a flight is amazing," he said as he spun her in a slow turn. "Nothing you've experienced before, and you don't even have to go to outer space for it."
"Thank you, but I prefer to have both of my feet safely on the ground."
"Earth-bound."
"In a way, yes." Liz said, a bit thoughtful.
Steve smiled. "So, why the FBI then? Chasing criminals? With your PhD you probably had other options. Why not go into science or work for some big company?"
"I think–" she paused briefly and thought of Sam. She could still see his face, the expression of complete disappointment in his eyes when he had learned about Omaha, about Frank.
She had never wanted to be the cause of that expression again, and only now did she understand that Sam had probably feared she would take after her biological father, regardless of everything that he had tried to teach her.
"I think I simply wanted to…do some good, work for the good guys," she said eventually, shrugging. "Don't laugh, I really mean it. And the FBI, they pay me enough to have my small apartment on Church Street."
"Church Street? That's a beautiful area."
"Yes, it is. Hudson loves it there," she agreed, and for a second, she saw the smile on Steve's face falter before she said, "Hudson, my dog. Very loyal and patient, perfect roommate."
"Sounds like somebody one better keep on his good side," Steve teased.
She laughed. "Maybe."
"Liz, let me ask you–"
She never heard the rest of his question. She barely noticed when their movements came to a halt, her gaze flying over the crowd at the edge of the dance floor. A moment before, she was sure she had seen Dembe standing among those people, but now all she saw were the faces of strangers.
"Liz?" Steve tried again.
"Yes?" she replied, but her eyes lingered for a moment longer on the spot where she believed the bodyguard had been standing.
When she finally turned and met Steve's gaze with a confused expression on her face, the smile in front of her broadened.
"I asked you a question."
"I'm sorry." She gave him an embarrassed half-smile, angry with herself for allowing her sub-consciousness to trick her into seeing things that weren't there. "I truly wasn't planning on making this a habit. I thought… I had seen a friend of mine."
Steve took a step back, releasing her hand. Suddenly it was he who looked uncomfortable.
"Look, Liz, I merely wanted know if you prefer to continue to dance or if you would like to go back to the table or maybe somewhere else," Steve explained, and Liz felt with every word an anxious knot tighten in her stomach. "This hotel is supposed to have a huge roof terrace, and from what I have heard the view over Pennsylvania Avenue is spectacular. We could even take two of those delicious desserts with us they are currently serving."
When he finished the sentence, she saw him square his shoulder slightly, moving his hands to his sides as he waited for her answer.
This is it, Liz thought, This was the moment she had to make her choice, to turn away or to allow herself the chance at a perfect distraction if not more, a chance to find out if her heart could move on… in time.
Pretending to be still pondering her options, Liz tilted her head slightly.
"Dance or dessert, you say?" she asked, smiling, a coquettish smile that was aware of the slight innuendo in her words.
Steve's posture relaxed visibly. "I wouldn't blame you if you'd choose the latter," he said, teasing.
She laughed, her mouth already forming the reply when someone beat her to it.
"Oh, but I would," declared an all-too familiar dark voice next to them, sounding strangely amused.
Red.
Liz's gaze flew around and her heart painfully skipped a beat as she beheld the man she had thought to be an ocean away. But instead of strolling along Champs-Élysées, Red was standing only a few feet away, dressed in an impeccable tuxedo with black tie, his left hand casually placed in the pocket of his trousers while an almost presumptuous smile was playing around his mouth.
"Lizzie," he greeted her, her name a deep, melodious sound as he met her gaze.
"Re–Ray…I thought you were in Paris," she said, the words tumbling from her mouth.
"Change of plans," Red replied, glancing briefly away from her face and at the jade colored, one shoulder evening gown she had spent far too much of her monthly paycheck on. "And you look radiant, Lizzie."
He gave her an affectionate smile, causing her stomach to do a treacherous somersault before he turned sideways, dignifying Steve with a brief glance.
"Mind if I cut in?" he asked, only to continue without missing a beat, "Excellent."
"Liz?"
Steve who had watched the whole scene in front of him in silence so far was now looking at her, a mixture of confusion and anger plain on his face, and Liz tasted the irony of the whole situation bittersweet in her mouth.
Three weeks. She had missed Red for three long weeks, had endured the thought that he was distancing himself because she had foolishly betrayed her feelings for him. And now he had chosen to finally return in the very moment she was about to give herself a chance at reclaiming her heart.
Liz drew a short breath, trying to muster what she hoped would be a warm, reassuring smile.
Whatever those plans were that caused Red to seek her out here tonight, they had better be a good because she could only hope that Steve would forgive her later for abandoning him in the middle of dance floor.
"It's alright, Steve," she said. "Ray–he's... my partner at work. I think you two didn't have the chance to meet during the case." Liz threw Red a stern glance.
When she met Steve's eyes again, her own held a silent apology. "One dance. I promised him one if he'd made it back in time for tonight. I'll meet you again our table before you know it."
"And she keeps her promises," Red said as he closed the distance between them and took her hand.
Liz barely saw Steve's reluctant nod before Red swiftly drew her into his arms and led them into the dancing crowd.
"You could have at least waited for his reply," she said with a sigh when they were several feet away.
Red regarded her for a long moment, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Ray? Is that what you call me when I'm not listening, Lizzie?"
Liz shook her head mildly. "It's not as if I could have introduced you properly to someone from the Joint Chiefs, is it, Red?"
"I have to say I'm impressed," he said, his tongue clicking against his teeth. "A French twist, you wearing jewel colors, Lizzie, and that lieutenant colonel–I've been away for three weeks and you're already developing a taste for the finer things in life." Red paused, casting a glance over his shoulder, into the direction into which Steve had disappeared.
"Those dress uniforms still have an abysmal cut," he said musing, as he turned back.
There was a moment of silence and Liz noticed the tic in his cheek before Red continued airily, "Otherwise heseems to be beyond reproach. Even Kaplan liked his resume, and the woman is pickier than a Swiss watchmaker. Do you want see it?"
It took several seconds until the full implications of his offer sank in, but once they did, Liz felt herself flush with anger.
The bastard. He had known all along who would be seated next to her during tonight's event. Not only that, he had ordered Kaplan to screen Steve's background in advance. And now he was looking at her with a smug grin, waiting for her reply.
"No, thank you," she said, the words trembling on her tongue, her eyes narrowing with the unspoken warning to leave the topic alone. "What are you doing here anyway? No more Monets to auction off?"
"Paris in September is spectacular," Red replied warmly, tilting his head, apparently unfazed by her flare of temper. "Have you ever seen the sunrise over Sacre Coeur? It's mesmerizing. There is that low stonewall near the market place in Montmartre where you can sit and watch–"
"Red–" Liz interrupted him brusquely, "–what the hell are you doing here?"
"I have a business matter that requires my attention here tonight," Red said, matter-of-factly, before his gaze softened. "And given the opportunity, I decided on stealing a dance from you."
"Agent Martin will see us," Liz objected, unwilling to be placated so easily.
Red chuckled, the deep throaty sound washing over her as he said, "So will uncounted other people, Lizzie. We're in the middle of a ballroom."
Liz blanched, the risk of Red's public appearance in front of D.C.'s elite suddenly dawning cold through her chest.
"Why we really shouldn't be doing this," she said, her voice tense as she glanced around, trying to identify if they had attracted any attention already.
There were many reason why ishe/i shouldn't be doing this, why she shouldn't be in his arms right now, why this was exactly what her heart couldn't take.
Him. The closeness, the warmth of his touch, seeping into every fiber of her being. And she was a fool for secretly savoring every second of it.
But Red… as if to mock fate he had asked her to dance in front of a ballroom full of government officials.
That reckless man, why would he even do– Liz's breath caught, the thought lost as out of the corner of her eye she saw Steve standing together with the white-haired man from Stance's table among the crowd close to the dance floor. Steve was looking into their direction while he spoke but the older man only shook his head.
If Steve had recognized Red….if anyone would recognize him tonight, this could finally overstretch his deals with the government and land him in solitary confinement.
Forever.
"Red, you need to leave," Liz said, urgently, as she saw his eyes drifting into the direction where the men were standing.
"And let Ressler have all the fun?" Red raised an eyebrow in response to what he obviously thought to be an indignant proposition.
"Lizzie, I'm hiding in plain sight, like every good trickster." He gave her an unfathomable half-smile as he slowly spun her around.
When she was back in his arms, Liz noticed how despite his objection, he began to lead them deeper into the sea of dancing people, away from what she feared were too many prying eyes.
"I wouldn't miss this for the world," he continued a few moments later as they had reached a far away corner of the dance floor, close to the orchestra. "Elizabeth Scott, rising star within the FBI. Savoir of a billionaire's family and guest of honor for tonight's event. I told you I'd make you famous, Lizzie."
"I never asked for any of that." Liz shook her head sadly.
The moment Red had brought her to Sam, both men had given her the gift to become just a random girl from Nebraska. But it was her importance to Red that had made her a target again. Without his adversaries, Tom would have never inserted himself into her life. Red would have never surrendered to the FBI, and she would still be one of many nameless profilers, hoping to make her illusion about having a family and career, about picket fences and business meetings, Sunday barbecues and late night lullabies come true one day.
They both knew it, and Liz watched how for a mere second a shadow haunted Red's face.
"No, you didn't." he said, his jaw clenching.
"Red, I was serious." Liz tried again. "Stance invited half the Pentagon and intelligence community here tonight. What if someone recognizes you? What if Steve has recognized you?"
"The perks of having an immunity deal," he replied, sounding almost defiant.
Liz frowned. "That deal is hanging by a thread, thanks to Martin's book reports, and you know it."
"Lizzie," Red growled, signaling for her to finally let the topic go but Liz shook her head once more.
"Whatever you are trying to prove here Red, it's not worth the risk," she insisted gently, no longer able to keep her fear for his safety from wavering her voice.
At those words, Red pulled her closer into his arms, placing their entwined hands on his chest.
"You are worth it," he said simply, a rough edge in his voice. "Having this moment with you tonight is worth it."
Holding her gaze, Red gave her a small smile that was filled with such wistful tenderness it made her heart clench painfully in her chest.
Because of her… he was taking this risk because of her.
Liz swallowed, hard, trying to stem the tide of emotion that was rising in her throat, her eyes darting over his face.
When she had received the invitation over a month ago, for one ridiculous moment she had played with the thought of asking him to go with her, only to realize he would never be able to, even if he had wanted to.
Despite everything, officially he was still a wanted fugitive. And now, he had taken the risk, stolen this dance, because this was the only way for him to celebrate with her what was an event honoring her work…
"Therefore, Lizzie" Red continued, interrupting her line of thought, "allow me to disregard our splendid Agent Martin and all of Washington's minions for now, and let's pretend you're at least glad to see me, because I really missed that lovely, little frown on your forehead."
"I don't have to pretend for that," she said quietly; the thought of him believing his return to be unwelcome suddenly far more hurtful than the risk of him realizing how much she had longed for it.
Her gaze drifted away from his face and fell onto their joined hands, resting now safely upon his chest. Gently, she brushed her thumb across the back of his hand. "I've missed you, Red. I have missed you every day."
"Lizzie." He merely hummed her name in response, her heart stumbling when he pulled her even closer into his arms, dismissing any pretence at a socially acceptable distance.
She exhaled a slow, shaky breath before allowing herself to melt into what had become an embrace, surrendering finally to the moment. She heard the soft hitch in his breath as she leaned in, resting her temple lightly against his cheek.
It was fatuous, dangerous even, given their current surroundings but when she felt him nuzzle her hair with his nose and closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, the soft tremors running down her spine, the feeling of belonging that spread through her veins.
This was where she wanted to stay, right here in this moment. Far away from wars and laws, away from everything that she still didn't know about their connection, about her past.
She would never fool herself with the illusion that at the end of their journey a happily ever after would be waiting for them. They were both damaged souls living broken dreams. However, being with him, loving him was the one thing she would gladly betray the odds for to have it.
As if he had sensed her thoughts, Red's lips brushed along her ear, his voice vibrating low and dark over her skin when he said, "The night is supposed to be starlit. The sky over Potomac is at it's most beautiful then. There is a bench–"
The proposal remained unfinished, the moment shattering around them like a shell of glass as Red suddenly trailed off.
A second later, reality returned in the harsh form of Mr. Kaplan next to them on the dance floor. She was wearing a dark blue sheath dress with an elegant, long coat and a deep frown between her brows.
"Dearies, obviously this is most inconvenient," she said, pursing her lips. "However, Raymond, your contact, he refuses to be kept waiting. If you don't meet with him now, the opportunity for a negotiation might be lost permanently."
Liz watched how Red closed his eyes, a pained expression marring his face as if Kaplan's words had reminded him of more than just a business meeting.
His mouth thinned into a harsh line as he drew away and turned to the older woman. Liz's hand still tightly clasped in his, his thumb brushed over her knuckles.
Don't go. You don't have to, not now, she demanded silently, foolishly, willing the moment to last, but the hope was ruthlessly silenced by Red's reply.
"I'll be right there," he said with a nod before turning back to her, his gaze falling onto their joined hands.
She saw a flicker of hesitation crossing his features but within a heartbeat it was gone, his face hardened and he let her fingers slid from his grasp.
Suddenly she felt cold, oh-so cold. Whatever had been there, unspoken in the moment between them, Red had forced it back behind his usual mask.
It was perfectly back in place when he looked at her again.
"As you have heard, I've unfinished business, Lizzie."
She nodded. "I guess, I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said, amazed how casual her voice sounded as she willed a small smile onto her face.
With another nod, he turned away and Liz drew a wavering breath as she watched him go. She lingered for several painful heartbeats until she headed into the opposite direction, a strange flight of loss tightening her throat.
She had barely emerged from the merrily moving crowd on the dance floor when she felt a hand touching her upper arm lightly.
Gasping, she glanced sideways and saw Aram standing next her. He as well was dressed in tonight's customary tuxedo with black tie.
"Seems somebody is about to cash in his payment," he said quietly, gesturing with his head towards the other side of the room.
Liz turned around, her eyes following her colleague's gaze. Close to one of the large ballroom doors, Red and Harvey Stance were just leaving the room with a distance of a few steps.
"It was inevitable, I suppose," she said absently as she watched Red vanish out of sight.
He never looked back, and she closed her eyes briefly to banish the wave of disappointment from manifesting in her eyes.
"Liz, you okay?" Aram searched her gaze, a worried frown between his brows.
"No, it's just-" She paused, shaking her head. "Never mind. It's nothing."
Her colleague regarded her for a long moment before he cast a glance over Liz's shoulder into the direction of the table of honor. "Where did the other guy go anyway?"
"Steve?" she asked startled, realizing that she had briefly forgotten about him.
She looked around but the officer's seat at the table was vacated. "I don't know." Shrugging, she gave her colleague an embarrassed smile. "I have to go and find him."
She needed to find him, Liz realized. She had to apologize to him for abandoning him on dance floor. He deserved better than that. But most of all, she had to find out if he might have recognized Red.
She reached out and gave Aram's forearm a soft squeeze and was about to turn away when a waiter approached her.
"Agent Scott?" the man asked, holding a silver platter with a small envelope lying on it.
"Yes?"
"I have a message for you."
…tbc.