9: Dana
It was easy for Lizzie to get lost in the embrace. Red's words hummed in her ears and she pictured her father losing at poker, throwing his cards down, cursing with frustration. The memory made her sad and, without realizing what she was doing, she buried her face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like tobacco and expensive scotch as well as warm, dark cologne that tied everything together in something that was completely Red. She felt his throat move when he swallowed and her arms tightened around him before she could stop herself.
Reddington's hand continued to rub at the base of her neck until he started to feel her relax. He could hear the slow jazz waltz start to play from the iPod speakers and he started to sway to the music, slowly, lazily, to try and calm the woman even more.
"What are you thinking, Lizzie? What's on your mind?"
"I just feel alone." Her voice reached his ear as a straggled little murmur.
You used to be so strong, Raymond thought, his fingers kneading the tired muscles of his Lizzie's neck and shoulders. Now look what I've done to you. Drug you into this world without Sam. I let Tom hurt you. I let him get away.
"I'm sorry, Lizzie."
She was quiet for a moment longer, collecting herself and trying to process the moment. When she pulled away, Red could see some of the old walls she was used to being built back up. Stone trying desperately to harden against the torrents of wind and pain. He could see how hard she was trying to be sturdy as she stood there, her cheeks shining like a little girl's. Reddington could also see just how much she was failing.
"Tom's gone," Red murmured, cocking his head to the side and looking at the way her hair floated around her face. "Sam's gone. But I'm here. And you are never alone."
The shine to her eyes threatened to return and Reddington felt the sharp, hot stab of possessiveness cut though his chest. It made his fingers twitch, but he did not reach for her again. If Lizzie needs him, she will initiate it.
Elizabeth felt the comforting press of his words on her shoulders and in her ears, wrapping her up in reassurance, like a blanket in a storm. Lizzie was aware of how close he still was, only a foot or two in front of her, and she could still smell the richness of his cologne. Her body screamed for Red's embrace, her skin prickling with longing, yet her head was sensible, told her to try and resist as much as she could. Behind him loomed the massive web of the Blacklist. As she looked, it reared its ugly head and hissed to her, reminding that outside of this safe little room, her life was chaos.
Her eyebrows tilted helplessly and she shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her. Red was aware as Lizzie's eyes looked past him.
"Do you ever just want to run away?" Elizabeth asked.
"I have run away."
"Would you do it again?"
Red turned and saw the strings, lines, documents, and photographs. He was very aware of how suffocating they were to Lizzie. He knew full well that her eyes were trained on Tom's, staring blankly from behind those ridiculous glasses. He leaned against the table next to Lizzie, his arm extended as he propped himself up against the surface. He could feel the small of her back on his thumb and it made the corners of his mouth lilt upwards in a small smile.
"No," Reddington affirmed, "No, I would never run away again."
"Sometimes it's just so tempting," Lizzie confessed as she leaned backwards against Red's arm. She felt the soft brush of his thumb and it reminded her of when she was faced with Wujing. "Go somewhere else, start as someone new..."
"Who would you be?"
Elizabeth mused for a moment. "I've always liked the name Anna."
Reddington shook his head. "I prefer you the way you are, Lizzie. Don't fix what's not broken."
Lizzie's ears pricked up at his words. What's not broken… In that moment, she knew he meant it in more ways than one.
"So, this Knapp…how big of a threat is he really?" Elizabeth asked after a few moments of silent. Red's thumb continued to gently brush up against the small of her back occasionally.
Reddington pursed his lips before he spoke, his eyes trained on the web of criminals in front of them. "Knapp is ruthless, and that's what makes him dangerous. He has no connections, no friends, no family, nothing to hold him back. He has no conscious to discern his actions. He's driven by his own agenda."
"The agenda of starting a war and reaping a profit?"
"The worst kind of entrepreneur."
"I wonder how many people he has in the country."
"Plenty."
Lizzie looked at her phone. "I still haven't heard from Cooper or Aram, or even Ressler. They were going to let me know when they found something in Santo's computers."
Reddington chuckled and pressed his hand against her back. "Patience, Lizzie."
She felt like an impatient child stomping her feet and waiting for Christmas. The pictures were staring at her. Anslo Garrick. Wujing. Tom Keen. It all seemed so impossible to connect, but she knew there was something there. Something that bound them together. The answer was in Reddington's head.
He was right…she had to be patient.
The song switched over on the iPod, a slow blues, and Liz closed her eyes, the music like flowing water. Her muscles were tired, her brain was worn out….Sighing, Lizzie let her head lull to the side and rest comfortably on his shoulder. She ignored the way her brain protested and relished in the simple human contact.
"Are you tired? Do you want to go home, Lizzie?"
"Your place?" He had let slip…called his apartment "home" for the both of them.
There was a pause. "Is that what you want."
"Yes."
The bathwater was tinted the slightest shade of purple and it smelled of lavender and rose, little petals actually floating in the tub. It was copper, the feet curled to look like paws, and the knobs made of crystal and mother of pearl.
Overall, it was a very decadent bath.
And the young woman soaking was no less decadent.
Her hair was the reddish-brown of auburn and was gathered atop her head in order to keep it somewhat dry. She was tanned, but not overly dark, and her brown eyebrows arched gracefully over her closed eyes. Her nose was small and lips full, painted the color of rose petals. She was thin, the shadows of her collar bones present above the rise of her breasts, and her fingernails were painted the same color of the wine that sat on the black and white tiled floor.
The door opened with a creak and she opened her eyes, dark mascara and smoke making the brown of her eyes darken. She was not happy when she watched the man stride in without announcing himself.
"What are you doing in my house, Alexander?"
"We both know that this is an apartment, Dana," Alexander Knapp said, his cold eyes trained on her face and completely ignoring her nakedness. "You owe me a favor."
For a moment he recognized the metallic flash of fear in her eyes. "What?"
He helped himself to sitting on the tiled floor, crossing his legs and looking up at her. He was older, about forty, and his hair was an uninteresting shade of brown, parted along the side and combed over in a classic, practical way. He wore a button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and slacks, the brown oxford shoes glossy.
"Don't you remember? Seven years ago you asked for my help and I provided it."
"And I paid you," the woman said, indignant.
For the first time since he had barged into Dana's bathroom, he let his eyes travel over her body, yet there was no appreciation on his face. "Yes, you did…but you still owe me. Our agreement was that you owed me one favor. And I'm calling in on that. Did you think I had forgotten?"
"Yes."
Knapp's eyes snapped back to hers and she hated the color of them. Hazel, gold and green swirling with a coldness that was hard to look away from. Unable to control herself, Dana tried to lean as far away from him, tried to get away from his stench of lethality and corruption.
He smiled, gold glinting behind his lips, His two front canines were encased in metal. "Well I didn't forget, Dana."
She was silent.
Knapp stood up and reached for the plush champagne colored towel that hung from the hook next to Dana's mirror. He handed it to her. Cautiously, she wrapped her hand around the fabric and Knapp turned his back to her, allowing Dana to step out of the tub.
"I need a favor from you," Alexander Knapp said, turning and facing the woman again. He liked the way her face looked…but despised the makeup.
"What is it?"
Smirking, he slipped a hand in his pocket and fished out a picture of a brown haired woman wearing a blazer and talking on the phone.
"I want Elizabeth Keen. Alive. Unharmed. In my headquarters."
"Alexander, I haven't done any collections since-"
Abruptly, Knapp lunged towards Dana, grabbing her wrists and slamming her against the wall. His body was heavy against hers, pinning her against the tiles, his knee digging into her thigh and his lips only centimeters from her ear. The woman could feel the hot, terrifying breath puff against her skin. Her eyes widened when she felt the cold prick of a knife at her waist. His other hand was up against her throat, squeezing just enough to show her what he was capable of. Knapp's voice was a whisper, but it sounded like he was screaming.
"Elizabeth Keen. Unharmed. Alive. Headquarters. You have two weeks."
And with that, he tucked the knife back in his pocket and stepped back. He looked at Dana's face, saw that his hand had smeared some of her lipstick in the struggle. Alexander Knapp smirked again and reached out, pressed his thumb against her lips, and streaked the lipstick even more. Dana wanted to bite him, but knew all too well what Knapp did to insubordinates.
When he was finished with her lipstick, Knapp leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her neck and he could feel her pulse against his lips. He was pressed against her and Dana shockingly aware of the situation when she felt Knapp become aroused against her waist.
"Lay off the clown paint," Alexander finally said, leaning away finally and allowing her to breathe. Dana didn't say a word. Knapp moved away from her and neared the bathtub. He reached in the water and pulled the plug. The scented bathwater started to drain. Standing back up, Knapp smiled at Dana.
"So we have a deal?"
The woman nodded, trying to stay as composed as she could, clutching the bath towel around her.
Knapp looked pleased with himself. As they psychopath turned to leave, Dana was disgusted as he watched him slowly put his thumb in his mouth and taste the water that still clung to his skin.
Tom usually didn't smoke, but there he stood, leaning against the window frame of Holli's studio apartment while she slept on. DC blinked in the night and way across town Tom tried to convince himself that he saw the domed capitol building. The sun would be up in about three hours.
There was a soft snore from the bed and Keen looked back at the sleeping girl. She was fiery in bed and he was very much sated, hence the temptation for him to take a few drags on a cigarette. He had not given her a contact number, so it would be very easy for him to slip away unnoticed and unreachable once he finished his smoke. The girl's calico cat watched from the back of the sofa. He had always liked cats, never much liked dogs. It was Elizabeth's idea to adopt Hudson.
Drawing his last inhale down to the filter, Tom flicked the cigarette out the window and gathered up his computer bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out the hidden holster and tucked it into his waistband, the gun hiding underneath his shirt.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Marcus had texted him again.
Knapp made contact with Dana. Since you couldn't get Keen, he hired someone else.
Tom felt fury. Seething, he nearly flung his phone out the window before he slipped out of the pretty barista's apartment.
