Hey guys! Some angst in this chapter, but we just needed it to flesh out some emotional stuff. i promise next chapter i have some action planned! Love all the reviews, they mean so much! Thank you!
8: Pizza
The door opened with a click and Dembe quietly moved into the storage locker with two pizza boxes cradled in his large hands. Lizzie couldn't help but bite her lip as the smells of rich crust and snappy marinara sauce reached her nose.
"Thank you, Dembe," Reddington hummed as his friend rested one pizza on the old table while he opened the other and, while cradling the box in his hand, shoved a piece into his mouth before moving back towards the door.
"What kind are we dealing with, here?" Elizabeth asked, not hesitating as she rolled up her sweater sleeves and opened the lid. Classic Neapolitan pizza margherita welcomed her.
"I like simplicity," Raymond said, reaching around her and picking up a slice.
"You? You're bluffing."
Red chuckled, the smile making his eyes crinkle and spark with something unnamed as he started to eat.
The two had been there since late morning. Folders were strewn about the cement floor, pictures scattered and some pinned up next to document, passports, even birth certificates. Water bottles and energy drink cans were tossed in the corner, forgotten.
Hours earlier, once Lizzie had slid into Red's car, he deposited a large cardboard box in her lap.
"Oomph… what's this?"
"Someone under my employment had found it. Turns out that our Tom had another hideout he had used."
"Your employment?" Lizzie's eyebrows were flat with skepticism.
Red ignored her and tilted his chin towards the box. "Take a looksee."
She removed the cover and found files. Thick, manila envelopes and folders, near bursting with paper. Picking up a fat envelope and undoing the cheap red string that kept the flap closed, Elizabeth said, "What is all this?"
"Look at the names."
She pulled out a picture, a disturbing one. It was of an older man, shirtless and wearing a gas mask. His body, the muscle weakened by age, was pockmarked with burns and scabs, some scars scattered between. Liz bit the inside of her cheek as she remembered the feeling of being immobile and paralyzed, the biting, harsh chemical scents still fresh in her memory.
"The Stewmaker?"
Reddington nodded.
She slipped the photo back in the envelope and took out the next one, a folder. She opened it up and clipped to the front was Gina Zanetakos, the beautiful woman's hair a sheer black bob, but the face was unmistakable.
"You found the Blacklist?"
"He's been tracking me," Reddington said, working his jaw and his eyebrows furrowed when he blinked.
"How did he get this from you?"
"I haven't the foggiest."
"Could it be someone under your 'employment?'"
"I screen everyone very closely, Lizzie. You don't get to where I am by just hiring anyone to carry out your work."
"Somebody on the taskforce then?"
"Possibly…" Red sniffed and rested his elbow on the car door, running his chin along his finger idly. "I don't know how plausible that would be."
"We've dealt with moles before..."
Raymond knew full well she was referring to the sudden disappearance of Diane Fowler. Cooper had questioned him, booming and yelling in that small office of his, yet Elizabeth had stayed silent and had never brought it up since…something Raymond was truly grateful for. Little did she know just how large of a part Fowler had been…informing Anslo Garrick how to get into the headquarters and unleash Hell. That coward Finch had controlled her from the very start once he knew that Red had him in the palm of his hand.
Next to him, Elizabeth was also lost in thought. She was silent for a moment, thinking about the wealth of information that sat in her lap. Her heart pounded a little too quickly and she was very much aware it wasn't just from the possible leads she was just given. The proximity of Red after last night made her nervous, and she tried to clench her jaw to prevent the feeling. Pretending to look at a document of scanned passports, Liz's mind wandered. She thought of how warm and close she had been last night, how the simple act of touching Raymond Reddington's face had come so easily to her. Lizzie's eyes fluttered closed as she lay in the comfort of her bed and she easily remembered the smell of the tuxedo jacket Red draped over her shoulder. The trace of rich tobacco and fine cologne clung to it and the scent warmed her nose as the jacket warmed her body. Was it the alcohol that had drawn her to him that night? No…it couldn't have been…she didn't even have that much last night.
Lizzie opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of the car while her own thoughts roared in her ears, the sunlight from the window making the dust shimmer as it hung in the space of the back seat. Her mind spun with the own denial and fear she had surrounding Red. He was handsome, she would be willing to admit that…and his voice…. When he spoke, he low roughness that was somehow milky smooth at the same time was easy to get lost in and his touch was always so sure, no matter how fleeting the contact was. Those gray-green eyes always held her whole whenever Red met her own gaze and they shone with a deep secrecy she was driven to discover.
From the moment she was sent down into that holding area, Reddington was stuck in her head. She remembered her first words to him.
Well…here I am.
What had he said back? She narrowed her eyes trying to remember.
You got rid of your highlights…you look much less Baltimore….
The blueness of Liz's eyes sparked when they widened. That's right! He had said something so over the top and personal…how had he known that?
Lizzie glanced at him, noticed the way his eyes were staring blankly out the window at the passing buildings of D.C. He looked lost and she couldn't help but wonder what was turning in his head. Her blue eyes searched his face, looking for signs of agitation, tight muscles in the jaw or veins in the neck. Nothing, he seemed to be relaxed, his chest moving gently with each breath the man took. Elizabeth glanced to the front and realized Dembe was very much within earshot.
She made up her mind to ask him about it the next time she had the chance. After only about ten more minutes, the car pulled to the curb in front of the storage locker.
"Red, we're here," Lizzie said, tucking back the files and closing up the box before stepping out.
Reality came back to him through a series of blinks before he had opened the door and followed suit.
And so, there they were. Folders and papers scattered while Elizabeth moved from file to file, pinning, studying, trying to build bridges from one Blacklister to the other. Red watched her eat the pizza, the way she pulled the slice away from her mouth when the mozzarella stretched lazily. She would hold a hand up shyly to her lips when she would chew.
Reddington smirked and moved over to the table. Lizzie had replaced the old desk clock with a sleek alarm clock, an iPod plug in included. He fished out the sleek back mp3 from his jacket pocket and set it up on the dock. Slow blues and jazz floated from the speakers and he helped himself to another slice of pizza.
"I figured you as a jazz person," Lizzie called, standing with her hip popped to the side as she studied the picture of Anslo Garrick's morphed face. The baked golden crust still cradled in her fingers. Raymond watched the way her stray hairs hung lazily from her bun. His gray-green eyes traveled down the curve of her neck, the support of her shoulders, and the graceful strength of her arms before they rested on her hand. He mused about the way the warmth stretched from her palm and seeped into his cheek the night before.
"Red? Did you pass out on me?" She turned and watched him, her eyes bright in the gloomy light of the storage locker.
"I enjoy other things than jazz, I was in a mood for it," he shrugged.
"You're quiet." Lizzie pointed out
Reddington's head dipped and he gave her a small smile.
Lizzie sighed tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "I've been meaning to ask you about some things."
Red cocked his head to the side and leaned forward, tucking the cover back over the pizza box. He stood there in front of her, his fingertips resting on the warn top of the table and the jazz floating around them lazily. Liz worried her bottom lip with her teeth and he watched as she rubbed her thumb over the scarred flesh of her wrist.
The nervous change in her demeanor was almost instant.
"Lizzie, what is it?"
The low warmth of his voice settled in her ears. She forced herself to look at him.
"When we first met, you said something. You told me something about myself."
Red's eyebrows raised and Lizzie gently bit the inside of her cheek, processing before she finished.
"You said, 'you got rid of your highlights.'"
"You looked much less Baltimore," Red continued, remembering quite clearly.
Elizabeth crossed her arms and made sure she kept Red's gaze in the quiet.
"Why did you say that?"
The silence that followed did not make Elizabeth very happy. She felt her hand clench shut around her biceps and she shifted her weight, her eyes boring into Red's. Raymond looked at the woman in front of him, the way her eyes were suddenly hard and her jaw clenched. He touched his tongue to his bottom lip, cocking his head to the side as he waited patiently for the right words to come to him.
"I told you about your husband right from the moment I met you," Reddington finally said, his head shaking slightly from side to side as he spoke, fingertips drumming on the table top. "I knew he was dangerous and I knew he would hurt you if you had stepped just slightly out of line with his plan."
Lizzie blinked her mouth hanging open slightly before she spoke again, "So you were watching me?"
Reddington worked his jaw before he nodded. "Yes." He leaned on his fingertips, bracing against the table, waiting for her reaction.
Elizabeth Keen's face was like stone. "In my own home?" she asked, her voice one solid line of stone.
Red shook his head. "Never in your home. Not once. On the street. On your commutes. I would never invade the privacy and sanctity of your own home."
Her throat felt tight and her lungs shallow, so Lizzie turned away from Red. For a shocking moment, she noticed how overwhelming and intricate the Blacklist web was on the wall opposite her, growing and growing, sucking up all possible answers and only leaving more questions in its wake. Three separate problems, Raymond Reddington asking specifically for her, the Blacklist, and Tom Keen, were now all turning into one massive, connected trap.
And it seemed like she was right in the middle of it.
"What are you thinking, Lizzie?" Reddington murmured. She heard the fabric of his trousers shuffle as he shifted his weight.
Everything around her started to get overwhelming. Her head grew loud, names, dates, places, and fears all crashing into one jumbled mess inside her skull.
"I don't understand," she murmured, tilting her head back and closing her eyelids, the warning pricks of frustration starting to make her eyes burn.
"Talk to me Sweetheart." Red had not meant to let the nickname slip out, but now it hung between them.
Whirling around, Lizzie threw up her hands. "Look at this! Look at this mess!"
Red's eyes flicked past her to the board before they rested back on her face, her cheeks rosy and eyes bright with how overwhelmed she was. His heart tugged and he took a step closer.
"This, all of this. First, you drag me away from my life, or what I thought was my life, because you would only speak to me and me alone. Then you grace me with this mile long list of the world's most dangerous criminals and make us pick off your enemies one by one. And on top of that, my husband turns out to be a lie, some kind of psychotic hit man that had been hiding from me for three years!" Reddington watched the way she was breathing heavily.
"Plus, now I'm learning that they're all entwined and I'm the common denominator. I want to know why!"
Raymond could see how the stress had affected her the last week. Her eyes, however brightly they shined with frustrated tears, were cradled under the dark bags of exhaustion. His Lizzie was breaking in front of him and it pained him to see it happen.
"Lizzie…"
"And, even though you have reassured me countless times that you would never lie to me, you have yet to give me one solid answer about why it's me."
"Tom used you to get to me," Raymond answered, reaching towards her, almost pleading with her to sit down or to listen.
"Why would he know that I would bring him to you? How did he know that you would drag me into all this? I married him three years before we met."
Elizabeth could actually see the muscles in his jaw tighten and relax as he bit at the truth.
"Tell me at least something to help me understand," she pleaded, her voice quieter now ad she sniffed, the suffocating information making her shoulders ache. Elizabeth crossed her arms again, felt the pumping of her heart in her chest and a tear dripped down her face. She was starting to get sick of it all…all the uncertainty…all the secrets. However strong she thought she was, that strength was no match for what was turning into a tidal wave against her.
"Your father and I were very close friends, Lizzie, I knew him for most of my life. He saved my life on more than one occasion and I had done the same for him."
"You mean Sam?"
The sterile smell of the hospital flashed in Raymond's nose and he sniffed against the memory. "Yes."
"So…because I was Sam's daughter, Tom was guessing that you would try and make contact with me?"
Raymond watched her and his mind was screaming. Tell her the truth about Sam. Tell her why you're here, standing in this room, sharing pizza and watching her build this puzzle. Tell her the reason why you're here is that there are people out there who would do anything to make sure she was dead. Tell her that she is all you have….
"I'm protecting you, Lizzie. No matter what I do in this life, I will do it because I believe with everything I have that it will keep you safe. If I have to kill, burn, or steal in order to make sure you are ok, I will do it." His voice was so low Liz actually shivered. "Right now, you need to know that. Understood? I know you want more from me, more information, and you just have to trust me…that will come."
Elizabeth sighed. "I'm a federal agent. You don't need to protect me."
Reddington cocked an eyebrow and his head tilted to the side as he took another step forward. "Oh really?" he said lowly, "What about the Stewmaker?"
Lizzie was silent. He was only a few feet away and as he moved she could smell his cologne. She pressed her lips together in a hard line.
"What about Ranko Zamani?" Each time he spoke Raymond neared her. He noticed the way her breath caught and the light tint her balm had given her lips.
"Lizzie, you are a strong woman, one of the strongest I've ever met, but I still feel the need to keep you safe. I have you and you have me, we need each other," Red murmured.
The next thing out of Lizzie's mouth surprised even her.
"What was Sam like before he took me in?"
"Sam?"
Lizzie nodded and Red saw the pain of her loss still fresh on her face, the cut of losing her father and the fear of being alone in the world brought tears to her eyes. Red pictured her alone in her home, crying into the pillows of her bed, hiding the emotions she kept so well hidden at work behind the face of a strong and fearless woman. She was full of fire and strength, but the recent events had drowned her, overwhelmed and tossed her from side to side. He saw her broken and alone in the world and wanted desperately to show her that he was there. To show Lizzie that he would keep her safe.
So, with cautious steps, Reddington pulled Elizabeth too him and tucked her head against his shoulder, her forehead nestled where his neck met his collar. She didn't sob, but he could feel the wetness of her tears on his skin. His hand covered the back of her neck and he kneaded at the tired muscles gently with strong fingers, his other hand running up and down the length of Elizabeth's back. He closed his eyes gratefully when he felt her heart rate slow and breathing start to even out. Her arms eventually curled around his waist and, ignoring the screaming voice in the back of her head to step away, she clung to him.
Raymond's voice resonated in her ears.
"Sam was terrible at poker. He was an honest man, never told a lie, and it showed when he tried to bluff."
