The Ocean Between Us

A/N: Sorry this chapter's been so long in coming. A bunch of RL stuff really kicked my a$$ these last days, and I had no time to write. Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews, they have really kept me itching to get back to the story! This chapter is the longest by far, and I hope it will make up for the long wait!

As always, big thanks to inmate23 for her patience and unwavering support!

Disclaimer: Obviously.

Chapter 12

"I have the last name on the blacklist for you. Number one."

Liz would be lying to herself if she said she hadn't imagined this moment once or a hundred times. But not even her wildest dreams could measure up to the reality. A reality in which Red wasn't taking her in his arms and kissing the living daylights out of her but standing a safe distance away, eyeing her carefully and with a hint of uncertainty.

Letting her anger simmer for a while, she took a moment to fully take him in for the first time. He looked very different from the TV broadcasts and press photos. He looked like hell. She could see he wasn't sleeping well, his suit hung on his frame loosely and there was the tell-tale pink skin of a new scar above his right brow.

She swallowed, trying to quash the warmth and concern that were quickly settling in her stomach and threatening to cloud her anger and disappointment. She knew how to react when Red was facetious, deflecting, or angry but when he was so worn-out, when he looked so human, she found that even after all this time she was at a loss.

"Is this everything you've got to tell me?"

His eyes searched her face warily, his mouth pinched in a thin line, before he replied. "Believe me, I have so much to tell you, Lizzie," he said softly and she felt her anger scale down. "-but the Blacklist comes first." And then it was aflame again.

"Why the hell would I want to have anything to do with your goddamn Blacklist anymore?" she exclaimed angrily. "Why do you want to have to do anything with it anymore? Aren't you done?"

"Lizzie, I understand your anger-"

She let out a mirthless laugh. "I don't think you do," she said. "So let me enlighten you. I've been on the run for two years, living in constant fear, hunted, followed and attacked," she listed, her voice starting to break. Red looked at her, his eyes suspiciously bright. "I've been away from home and everything and everyone I know and care about. I had come to terms with the fact that all of them, including the person I cared about the most, had moved on with their lives. Elisabeth Keen had become a memory to them and to myself. I dealt with that. And then suddenly you appear as if nothing had happened, as if we saw each other yesterday, and all you have to say to me is that we have to finish the Blacklist?!" she was screaming now but she didn't care. All the emotions that she had been keeping bottled up were suddenly spilling over and she didn't have the will nor the strength to keep them at bay anymore. Red stood there motionlessly but she thought she noticed a tremor ghost over his features. "Well, you know what? Screw the Blacklist and screw you!" she exclaimed, anger clouding her vision, and shot out of the apartment.

~o~O~o~

"The gentleman's buying," the bartender announced to Liz and put a glass of club soda in front of her. She looked up from her third shot of rum at the glass and frowned. The bastard just didn't give up. Well, she was going to make clear to him she would rather drink gasoline than anything he bought her. It may be childish but it was no less satisfactory for it. She slowly turned around on her barstool.

"Red, you can go and shove- Dembe?!"

"Hello, Elisabeth."

She jumped off the bar stool and gave him a tight hug. "I missed you." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "And thank you for the postcards." At each of Red's secret stashes she used over the last two years she found a card with words of encouragement written in Dembe's neat handwriting. She still had all of them stored in the lining of her travelling bag.

Dembe smiled. "I had them put in all of Raymond's stashes. The next time he uses one of them, he might be a bit surprised."

Liz reciprocated his light chuckle and then looked around. "Where is he?"

"In the car," the bodyguard replied, his expression turning serious. "He would like to see you but he's afraid he'll upset you even more."

Liz allowed herself a small sigh. "I'm not sure it's humanly possible to be any more upset."

"You can always throw a glass at his head," Dembe suggested.

"Well, now that's an idea," she replied ruminatively.

"When you do, give me heads up so that I can take photos," he asked with a small smile.

Liz blinked. "So you also don't approve of this charade?"

"I don't know why he's doing it," Dembe admitted with a rueful shake of his head. "He wouldn't tell me anything. All I know is that there wasn't a single day he didn't talk about you, Elisabeth. Not a day went by that he didn't have his people try to track you down. He- We truly missed you."

She felt a prick of regret at her earlier outburst but tried to hold on to her anger desperately. These were the words she wanted to hear so badly but she couldn't let herself let go so easily. Not yet.

"Well, the publicity and the ladies definitely helped," she replied bitterly.

"It was for show, Elisabeth. You must know that," he expostulated.

"Must I?"

"I'm glad you are fine," he said with a knowing glance, squeezed her arm and moved back to the entrance. She jumped back onto her stool and took a big gulp of the drink in front of her. She made a face realizing Dembe had ordered her club soda. She didn't get to order a proper drink before she felt an unmistakable presence by her side.

"Why did it take you so long to find me?" she asked without turning towards him.

A little tic flickered at the corner of Red's mouth. "It wasn't safe, Lizzie. I only managed to take down the last assassin sent after you last month in Kenya with the help of my men on the ground there."

A realization dawned on her and she turned to him. "Jeremy. He was one of yours."

"The first one that managed to track you down," Red confirmed. "I've sent dozens in the last months ever since the Director was brought down but you were too good. The man you know as Jeremy was supposed to follow you but not contact me until the last of the assassins sent after you was dealt with, or if he lost you. Both things happened at the same time but you were already off the grid again. It took me the last month to trace you to here. I don't have so many contacts as I used to."

Liz took a moment to process this. It all sounded so believable, so logical. It sounded true. But she knew Red's mastery with words so she remained distrustful.

"And you really couldn't have sent even a word that you were safe, that everything was going as planned?"

"I wanted to so much, Lizzie," he assured her in a voice even lower than usual, and his eyes told her that their estrangement was as hard on him as it had been on her. She turned her gaze away. "But I couldn't take the risk of compromising your safety. The Cabal became completely volatile and unpredictable in their final scramble for survival and they would have stopped at nothing. I could not let that happen," he vowed vehemently. "But I am sorry, Lizzie," he continued, dropping his voice to merely a whisper. "I know how hard it must have been for you."

Liz swallowed realizing that he really did know. He was perhaps the only person on the planet who could know. After all, some twenty years ago, the same thing had happened to him – alone, on the run, chased by the Cabal.

"What do you need me for with this Blacklister, Red? Why would I do this?" she asked not looking at him. The look of guilt and regret in his eyes was too much for her to bear without letting the tears building at the backs of her eyes flow.

"Because we are a team. Because you need closure," he reasoned, the usual confidence back in his voice. "We both do. That's why you've been waiting for me, Lizzie. That's why you're listening to me, and that's why you haven't thrown that glass at me yet."

She remained silent but turned towards him. "It's tempting, believe me."

He gave her a half-smile. "Also, because you're curious," he added, tilting his head to the side in an achingly familiar gesture, and gave her a knowing look. "And when we're done, I will give you my jet to take you wherever in the world you want. I will disappear and you will never hear from me again. But you have to give me this one thing, Lizzie. This one last Blacklister."

She swallowed as she tried to untangle the jungle of colliding thoughts in her head. Then her eyes fell on the round ragged scar on the side of his neck, now in full view as his shirt collar was unbuttoned. The scar from a pen wedged into his carotid. He could have had it stitched up or removed surgically but instead he had chosen to leave the wound to heal on its own and forever keep her mark on his skin.

As if hypnotized, she slowly reached out and gently touched her finger to the sensitive skin right over the scar.

Red was motionless, his eyes carefully trained on her face as she focused on the marred skin and shivered slightly at the sparks going over her skin at touching him for the first time in two years. Nothing had changed. Her reaction to his was just as vehement and strong as ever. She looked into his eyes and they were so open, telling her everything he wasn't able to articulate in words. His gaze told her of heartache and longing and fear.

It was like looking in the mirror. She swallowed.

She wanted to hold on to her anger, to simmer and boil in it, but Red's explanation and the raw emotion and guilt in his voice made her desperate hold on that anger slip. There was a plea for her understanding and forgiveness in his gaze and she found in her heart of hearts that at some level, she had already forgiven him. Forgiven. But not forgotten.

"I will need to pack first."

~o~O~o~

Liz sat just opposite him on the plane, which he took as a good sign in itself, and she fell asleep soon after they reached their flight altitude. Dembe was also dozing off in the front but for Red, as usual, Morpheus remained elusive. Even though dark thoughts didn't plague him as they used to, at least not with their former ferocity, they were still there and whenever he was more vulnerable, they would rear their ugly heads. He might have been exonerated but his criminal life, the filth he was forced to live in for so long, would forever taint his soul and conscience.

It weighed on him even though he had systematically been discarding the filth in the last two years – slowly selling off his empire piece by piece, removing himself from the picture and placing his former second-in-commands in his stead. By that point in time all his underground businesses were sold and divided, and all that remained were legit undertakings and safe investments. He was worth even more than before.

Never did he expect his plan to go so well. Except for one part. His gaze strayed to Lizzie, deeply buried under a blanket and snoring very softly.

When he laid eyes on her for the first time in so many months, he was completely paralyzed. All the emotions that he had managed to keep at bay when she wasn't there, that he thought he had finally gained control over, came crashing back at him with an intensity that took his breath away and all he could do was just stare at her.

She was still his Lizzie but she was also a completely new person, forged in the crucible of danger and fire. She was harder now. Wiser. Stronger. Her frame was even leaner, her hair was short and the bright light in her eyes he loved so much was dimmed. Long gone was the bright-eyed girl, and the ambitious rookie FBI profiler with her whole career in front of her. Whatever Red did in his struggle to protect her, that person was no more. In her stead was a hard-eyed, tough, tired woman who had eluded the best assassins in the business for two years and travelled the world with only the clothes on her back. It pained him how much of that was of his doing. He had turned her path so far away from what she had intended for herself that he was no better than the assassins sent after her. He clenched his teeth. The one part of his plan that had gone so very wrong. The one part that really mattered.

He rubbed his eyes, chalking off the tears building up under his eyelids as fatigue.

It would be better for her if he just let her go. Leave her to live out her life as far away from him as possible, in peace and safety. He had done enough damage in her life. But he was selfish that way. He could not let her go without finally knowing, once and for all.

And the final Blacklister would help him with that.

~o~O~o~

"What is this place?" Liz asked astounded, entering the vast hall after Red. "It's huge."

They had landed on a private airstrip on the suburbs of Charleston and after a short car ride they found themselves in one of the most beautiful places Liz had ever seen. The obviously historical mansion was tucked into a hauntingly beautiful garden with old trees, and felt stuck in a time when life was so wonderfully slow. It had a white columned façade, wide veranda, and gabled roof that oozed history. Lush wisteria vines winding around the columns completed the picture, providing a fragrant drapery for the guests entering the house.

When they came in, Liz couldn't help but gape at the equally charming interior, opulently furnished with fireplaces, hardwood floors, 15-foot ceilings, and patterned textiles.

"This was my grandmother's house," Red explained and Liz turned to him in surprise. It was the first time Red had taken her of his own will to a place that had personal value to him. "The vaudevillian with a French accent? I believe I told you about her once."

She nodded slowly and gave him a small smile. "I guess vaudeville paid pretty well back then."

"Not really, no." He chuckled. "Cotton and oil did, though, courtesy of my grandfather."

She stared a little and finally said, "It's really beautiful, Red."

"Thank you," he gave her a small smile. "Please feel at home. Your room is on the first floor in the western wing. Dembe will show you the way. There are some wardrobe choices for the reception tonight where we will meet my contact."

"No FBI?"

He shook his head. "God, no! We wouldn't want them botching things up!" He exclaimed, his voice rising with a chuckle. "It's just you and me, Lizzie, and plain old undercover."

"And what am I this time?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your girlfriend from Ann Arbor? Your child bride?"

"How about my niece from Nantuckett?" he said, narrowing his eyes slightly at her. "Come for the first time to a big city to enjoy the pleasures of civilization under the protective wings of her uncle?"

"I prefer to be the child bride," she retorted. "What time is the reception?"

"In an hour."

Her eyes widened. "I can't get reception-beautiful in that time!"

"You're already beautiful," Red said calmly, his tone matter-of-fact as he grabbed a decanter from a reading table to pour himself a drink.

She stopped on the threshold and looked at him quickly, hard, but he was busy pouring himself the drink.

"Okay," she finally said. "I'll be ready if you promise to tell me who the Blacklister is."

He raised his head at that. "Today or just sometime in the undisclosed future?"

"At the reception, Red."

He pursed his lips but nodded. She inclined her head in agreement and followed Dembe up the stairs.

~o~O~o~

Liz had not worn such fine clothes or bathed in such luxurious conditions in the last two years, if ever. She felt like a new person when she stepped down the stairs. Her short hair was smoothed down to one side, fastened with discreet diamond-adorned clips that sparkled when she moved her head. Her dress fit her like a glove and it was easily the most beautiful piece of clothing she had ever worn – it was blood-colored satin, with rows of black bows down the front and straps that crossed in back, showing her slim shoulders and back to great advantage. She chose red stilettos and a turquoise clutch to go with that – she made her choice instantaneously seeing the latter in the wardrobe among a dozen others. She couldn't help herself, it brought back memories of another party they attended together so long ago it seemed like in another lifetime.

When she came down, Red was waiting at the foot of the stairs sporting a perfectly cut tux and looked, if possible, even more put-together and elegant than usually. He was leaning against the railing slightly, radiating detached irony and aloof confidence. And then his gaze wandered up and landed on her and she could see his expression shift and merge into something much softer.

"You look dazzling, Lizzie," he said with a delighted little breathless laugh that made her a little breathless herself. He offered her his arm, "Shall we?"

~o~O~o~

The ballroom was magnificent. Crystal chandeliers hanging from a dramatic 18-foot ceiling gave off a brilliant, sparkling light. The creamy-colored walls were adorned with subtle golden patterns and tapestries sewn in golden thread that reflected the light of the chandeliers. A door on the side opened onto an elegantly decorated patio, letting in the pungent evening Southern air and filling the hall with the enticing smell of magnolias and wisterias.

The gathered guests were as shiny, brilliant and beautiful as the hall itself. It was apparently a fund-raiser party of sorts and the whole crème de la crème of the Charleston society was gathered. Red knew each and every one of them. The next two hours were spent shaking hands and being introduced to other guests. Liz did her best to keep her distance from Red but she soon found it a losing battle. They both seemed to drift towards each other, Red's arm ever so often softly encircling her waist or resting at her back. His glances became longer and she was mesmerized by the warmth she saw in them. She couldn't remember when she had last felt like that, wanting and wanted. It was intoxicating and overwhelming and she just wanted to push the pause button. To just stop and wait for a second, for them to get their bearing, to know where they stood.

And then suddenly as they turned around to be introduced to some local media tycoon and his son, Liz's stomach fell to the floor.

"Hello, Raymond!"

On the arm of the said media tycoon was none other than Madeline Pratt, looking as dashing and beautiful as always.

Red's face remained frozen in that polite courtesy expression he had been employing the whole evening. He didn't show any surprise at all when he greeted her in a loud tone, "My, Maddie, it's been too long!" and proceeded to kiss her lightly.

When Red moved away, Madeline's eyes landed on her and Liz stuck her chin out a little.

"We've met already, haven't we?" she asked.

"Do all you beautiful women know each other?" Red interrupted with a breezy laugh.

Madeline narrowed her eyes slightly at Liz. "Yes, we have a club. And please remind me, you are-"

"I'm Beth," Liz replied sweetly and gave her a brilliant smile.

Madeline didn't seem in the least bit satisfied with that but the conversation then switched to her partner. Liz was only too happy when almost instantly the son of Madeline's partner asked her to dance. She danced with him, then with another and another and Red was still talking to Madeline.

Until he wasn't anymore because he was looming over the shoulder of her current dance partner.

"May I cut in?" he asked but didn't really heed the man's answer as he effortlessly whisked Liz out of the other man's embrace and stepped forward, putting his own arms around her.

He rested his hands neatly on her waist, feeling the warmth of her against his chest. He looked down and into her face, which was charmingly flushed from dancing and the champagne, her eyes alight. Her hair, the color of molten dark chocolate, sparkled with the little diamonds she had pinned into it and emphasized the lighter delicate strands that reflected the golden chandelier light. She had never looked more beautiful.

"So, how's it going with Maddie?" she couldn't help the bitter note in her voice.

"Lizzie, you know how I feel about jealous women but I have to say, it's really becoming on you."

"Red, this is not a joke. Not anymore."

"You haven't denied it."

"What if I haven't? It's not like you don't know already," she replied, her tone laced with resignation.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Know what, Lizzie?"

She pulled back a little, looking up into his face with her eyes wide and luminous with emotion. They had stopped dancing now, and he felt that heat, that thickening of his blood that always happened when she looked at him this way. "Know why I came with you. Why I'm doing all this."

"Why, Lizzie?" he rasped out, his voice merely a whisper.

"First make good on your promise," she deflected. "The Blacklister. Have you met your contact yet? Is it Pratt?"

Red sighed. "Can we enjoy this dance without any of that Blacklist banter?" he asked with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Suddenly a realization hit her. She stepped back from him, searching his face but his expression was inscrutable.

"I need some fresh air," she said curtly and turned around from him, heading straight for the patio.

Thankfully, it was empty. She braced herself against the stone railing and looked out into the night, taking deep breaths of air. She didn't have to wait long for him.

"Lizzie-"

"Just answer one question to me. And it better be the truth, Red."

He slowly nodded.

"There is no number one, is there?" she said, her tone low.

He gave her a long look. "No," he finally agreed. "Not anymore. It was the Director." His deep voice that she found so riveting was little more than a gravelly, broken whisper.

Anger and disappointment washed through her, turning her eyes almost violet. But this time her anger was borne out of ice-cold resignation and it didn't control her. She controlled it and when she spoke, her voice was even.

"Nothing has changed, has it? I'm still your puppet, and you still won't let me make my own choices. You never give me the full truth, just pieces that lead me where you need to go, that make me dance how you need me to dance." She shook her head. "Every single time I come to terms with who you are, with my feelings for you-" His eyes flashed at that but she didn't notice and continued, "-you do this. Another game, another manipulation. Now I see how naïve I was – I thought it would change now that you're free and not a criminal anymore but it will never change, will it? Because that's who you are. You're so twisted up in your dishonesty and games that you have no idea how to act like a decent human being."

The sorrow and heartache gathered between them in thick waves and neither spoke for a long time. It was Liz who finally broke the silence.

"I can't live like that anymore, Red. Never again," and with that, she turned around and stepped into the night. "I need some peace not the chaos you bring wherever you go."

Red stood there motionlessly, finally allowing emotion to take over his features. His face was full of grief, a dull, heavy, angry grief that he would never find the words to say. Lizzie's face and the expression on it when she looked at him when he hadn't denied his ruse – not quite rage, not quite hurt, not quite disappointment, but a far worse combination of all three. That look would haunt him for long years.

He felt a heavy burden weigh him down and he had to ease himself on one of the stone benches at the wall. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He started to undo the buttons of his tux with quick, deliberate movements but it didn't help much. He still felt like he was choking on air.

To the outside world he showed a composed and stoic front, something he had become a master of. The walls he built around himself were the best way he knew how to protect himself. This time around, it wasn't working. At least not as he intended it to. All he managed to do was to finally drive her away for the last time because he couldn't just be truthful and upfront for once. Because he couldn't let go of what he had become. Because he was so unsure of her that he wanted her to speak first so that he wouldn't get hurt again. And now she would never speak to him again.

~o~O~o~

After her initial anger had simmered down and the chilly night air had dried the last of her tears, Liz sat on a bench under an especially beautiful dogwood tree overflowing with soft rose flowers and looked out into the night with unseeing eyes. Her eyes went back to the evening and the sadness in Red's eyes.

But apart from the sadness, there was also fear, she now realized. Red had made her up in his mind into a perfect image, his ray of light and his only hope and it must be truly intimidating for him to show to her, this ideal Lizzie, his soft underbelly and his real self. Hence the charades. It wasn't that he liked it, she got the feeling he hated it as much as she did as a remnant of his old persona, but he did it out of fear. It didn't make it right but it made her understand. It would have taken her weeks to see that once but now, after all she had been though, it was clear to her in that instant. Red was the victim of the same fear she saw every morning when she looked in the mirror. She was no more flawless than Red was. She just had to make him see that.

There was only one light on in the mansion. She tiptoed her way inside and headed right for it. Always vigil, Dembe watched her from his seat outside the door and she gave him a small, if somewhat teary-eyed, smile as she went past and into the small living room that Red inhabited.

He was seated in an armchair, with a glass of brownish liquid in his hand that could only be bourbon. He was still wearing his tux slacks, shirt and vest but his jacket was gone, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and the top three buttons loose. She swallowed, reigning in her suddenly waning courage.

"Red?"

He didn't make any move to indicate he acknowledged her presence.

"Red."

"What are you doing here, Elisabeth? You shouldn't be here."

He wasn't glad to see her. She swallowed. This was not going as she expected. "I've been thinking, Red."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Do tell, Lizzie, you certainly haven't used up my quota of soul-searching for the day yet."

She frowned at him but stood her ground. She would do what she came here to do. "Maybe I don't need peace after all. Maybe I feel more comfortable in chaos." He finally looked at her and she continued. "And I understand why you did what you did. I may not be okay with it but I understand."

He narrowed his slightly unfocused eyes on her, a fleeting spark lighting his gaze for a moment. "Do you?"

"Yes, and I'm still here."

"Yes, why are you here?"

"Please stop answering me with questions."

"Am I answering you with questions?"

"And now you're just trying to piss me off."

"And witness my success."

She glared at him. He had sunk farther into the depths of the armchair, and was regarding her with a weary, sad expression.

Liz leveled him with a stern gaze. "You're drunk," she said, suspicion turning into certainty.

"I am not," he said in an injured voice, brushing a hand over the side of his head. "Not yet. I've only had two glasses of whiskey and unfortunately all I am is slightly tipsy."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Red, didn't you hear what I said? I'm here," she enunciated. "You reminded me that there's so much life around, so much love, you just have to be open to it. And all I've done is close myself off. But in the last two days I spent with you…I felt more alive than in the last two years."

He drew himself up a little. "Lizzie-"

"The thing is, you have to let me make my own choices because my life is no longer in danger," she lowered her voice and gathered her thoughts before looking back at him with renewed courage as she continued in a soft but firm tone. "You don't have to protect me all the time, Red. You don't have to play games with me anymore."

His eyes sparked again, this time with more energy than he had displayed during their entire conversation. He got to his feet, swaying only slightly as he did so.

"What if I can't help myself?" he asked, taking another step closer to her, and reached out to touch her hair. "What if I indeed am damaged beyond repair? A lost cause, if there ever was one?"

"No one is a lost cause," she replied, her voice tight. "And you most of all. You can be redeemed. You've done so much already. But there is one thing you got wrong. I am not some plaster saint you can park on a pedestal. I am not a ray of light or a paragon of goodness. I'm not going to wash away your sins. But I can be there with you and for you. You just have to finally let me inside, to the real you. No games, no ruses."

His hand left her hair to touch her cheek and shocks ran through her skin like small electrical currents. Up close, she could smell the alcohol he had been drinking, laid over the familiar smell of him that she recalled: rich but subtle, elegant with hints of musk and sandalwood.

She took in a deep breath before she continued. "I'm a flesh-and-blood person and whether you wanted it or not, I'm like you, Ray. Solitary outcast with a murky past and uncertain future. So you can just stop. I've seen you at your worst and at your best and I'm still here. What does it tell you?"

"You are nothing like me, Lizzie. You could never be," he said in a low voice into her ear. "You don't know me. You think you do, but you don't. You don't understand what I really am. If you understood, you would be miles away from here," he replied scathingly, his tone laced with self-loathing.

She looked up at him, his words and his tone tearing at her.

"Red, you can't do this to yourself. Not anymore. You're exonerated. You're free. You're safe-"

"The end doesn't always justify the means, Lizzie," he interjected her. "I was once an honorable, honest man but the life I was forced to lead in order to bring about this end was anything but. I became a criminal and a murderer. When you deal with dark, it gets in you. The blood of so many innocent people is on my hands. Everything good that I have ever done is tainted. I've even managed to taint your life."

"No!" Liz placed the palms of her hands flat against his chest, desperately trying to communicate some of the intensity of what she felt. "That's not true! You're not responsible for other people's actions, nor for what they put you through or made you do."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Lizzie, you can't possibly believe that."

She fixed his gaze with hers. "Listen to me. Only the spirit that is capable of evil is capable of overcoming it. You've overcome your evils, Red. You saved an orphan from a fire that nearly killed you. You saved countless other lives. You have literally brought about world peace!" she exclaimed. "You've been manipulative, violent and you killed people but you were never really evil. So you can just...stop. Stop this whole 'I've got blood on my hands and I'm so evil' business. You're not anymore. You haven't been for a long time now. You're just a person, Raymond Reddington, like anybody else. And your problem isn't that you're evil. It's that you're scared. You hold on to this Concierge of Crime bullshit because it's an excuse to run away from what's good in your life. Because you feel way more comfortable with what's bad in it - the guilt and self-loathing that have been with you for more than twenty years. And because if that, somewhere along the way you've lost the ability to simply feel good and happy. You had to live in the darkness for so long that you don't know how to live in the light anymore. So you make up reasons to stay in the dark because it feels safer."

She stopped in her rant, breathing deeply. He just stood there and stared at her.

"But let me tell you, it's just a bunch of self-indulgent crap!" She poked him hard in the chest and he goggled at her in astonishment. "You are the bravest man I know and you let fear rule you like this! I expected more from you! I deserve more from you!"

She caught herself up short, gasping for air. She blinked. She had been shouting, literally shouting at Red and she all but called him stupid and a coward. She didn't know she still held so much anger and emotion about this. Red seemed to be bringing about a side of her that no one else ever did. The best and the worst at the same time.

Astonished, she raised her face slowly and saw him looking down at her, the strangest sort of expression in his eyes.

"Ray," her voice broke. "I'm sor-"

-sorry, she was about to say but before she had a chance to finish, or to even think it, Red took her by the arms, pulled her forward, and kissed her hard.

~o~O~o~

It felt nothing like the chaste kiss they shared before she had left two years ago. As his lips crushed hers, Liz felt like she was walking on air. The kiss obliterated her every thought. Her only desire was to touch him, to move her hands under the smooth layer of his shirt and vest and feel his skin against hers. In moments the soft caress had become more firm, and she savored his lips and the quickening of his breath that matched her own. The kiss spoke of desire, longing and passion pent up for longer than they both cared to admit. His mouth was so warm, the touch of his lips softer than she could have imagined and she opened her mouth with a low moan. She was hot and cold at the same time, she was melting into him and nothing else mattered than the feel of his lips on hers, his fingers scorching a path over her back-

"How long are you planning to keep this up?" came an irritable voice from the right. "Because I was trying to shower my way through this but honestly, you are making so much noise it's embarrassing."

Liz felt like someone had just dumped a huge bucket of ice-cold water on her. She leapt away from Red and pivoted on her foot.

Madeline Pratt was standing in the bathroom door with a bored expression on her face. She wore a luminous white nightgown that had slipped partially off her shoulder and her blonde hair showered down around her in a golden halo. She looked astonishing and Liz loathed her with a passion so intense she found herself completely speechless. Instead, she just gaped.

Red, however, didn't look embarrassed at all. "Maddie. I'd forgotten all about you," he said, his tone unfazed.

"That much," said Madeline, looking amused, "was obvious."

Red shook his head. Gazing at him, Liz was startled to see she had managed to get more of his clothes off than she thought. His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, a fact which didn't seem to bother him at all as he stood there, looking at Madeline irritably. "Well, you should have said something," he remarked.

"Like what? 'Excuse me?' Please. You were busy." She stepped into the room, her hips swaying as she went to the table and poured herself a glass of bourbon. She gave Liz a long look from over the brim. "I thought you were done with the little agent," she continued with a smirk. "This is truly a fascinating development. She is cute but she still is much too young for you, Red."

Liz had had enough. "You will not talk about me like I'm not here!"

Madeline narrowed her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," she purred in a sweet voice. "I think I've forgotten your name."

"Of course you have," Liz ground out. "You blonde conniving bitch!"

"I most certainly am not!"

"Not what? Really blonde? Now there's a shocker!"

There was a sound from the side and Liz realized it was Red, choking down a chuckle. She turned to him. "Tell me right now," she demanded. "What is she doing in your bathroom dressed like that?"

"Enjoying a shower, I believe. Lizzie, this is not-"

"What it looks like to me," she interjected furiously, "is that you've been having it off with Madame Cheap Tart over here!" She let her anger take over, not wanting to let the even more painful feeling of disappointment and hurt get to her. Not now. Not in front of them both. She didn't want to give them any more entertainment at her expense than she already had. "Which is fine, do whatever you want. But you could have told me we have an audience!"

"I forgot," he replied honestly, setting to buttoning his shirt.

"You forgot," she echoed, the tears she was holding at bay threatening to overflow. "Then please also forget about me. About everything I've said. Because I'm sure as hell forgetting about you, about this, starting now!"

And with that, she turned around and quickly walked out, the tears spilling in an uncontrollable cascade over her cheeks.

"Was it something I said?" Madeline asked innocently as the door closed after Liz with a loud bang.

~o~O~o~

"Are you here to give me a talking-to as well?" Red asked with resignation, watching from the corner of his eye Dembe walk in silently as a cat.

Madeline had left with a loud bang of her own a while after Lizzie had and Red was left with silence and his drink, which he downed in one big gulp.

"No, Raymond, I think you've had enough of that. I'm here to have a drink with you."

Red turned to Dembe with surprise and watched his friend pour himself a thumb of alcohol and sit in the armchair next to him. They sat in companionable silence watching the sun slowly rise in a yellowish ball of light, coloring the skies and trees with hues of pink and orange. It was going to be another scorchingly hot day.

"Say it," Red finally said, the prolonged silence finally proving unbearable.

"You- are a coward, Raymond," Dembe said silently with feeling. "And this self-loathing and guilt, it doesn't suit you. It's driving away all the good things in your life."

"What would you have me do, then?" Red asked irritably.

"Raymond, any man who loves a woman so much as you do Elisabeth, he would just go and get her. Without all the games and lies."

"It's not that simple." Red sighed, running a hand over his shortly cut hair. "She was right, Dembe. That is who I am and I can't do it any differently."

"That is not true, Raymond," Dembe objected. "It's fear that's making you be like this."

"It's not fear. It's simply who I am, and I have no choice about that."

"No, you have a choice," Dembe insisted. "You can live in a place of fear or believe in the best version of yourself, Raymond. The version she believes in already."

Red's eyes shot towards him, a lively spark coloring them to a cerulean green. "You witnessed yesterday's debacle, Dembe. Lizzie and I - we simply don't get along together," he objected weakly.

"You get along even worse apart," retorted Dembe in a decided manner.

~o~O~o~

Still wearing her gown, she sat on the furthest removed of the benches at the harbor boulevard, looking out onto the ocean. It seemed like all she had done in the last hours was sit on benches and scream at Red. She was already exhausted and the man had been back in her life for less than 48 hours.

She ran a hand over her face. Later she would check into a hotel, buy some normal clothes and book a flight back to Samoa but right now she just wanted a moment of peace. The last forty-eight hours had been a crazy roller coaster. Red had once again caught her in a whirlwind of frantic activity and emotions and she needed to catch a breath. The ocean did that for her, although for reasons she rejected right now.

It wasn't love at first sight. She used to be afraid of vast bodies of water and only came to love the ocean on her travels, where, whenever she could, she tried to choose to stay somewhere close to it. It gave her the impression that when she sat on its shore, it seemed like there was only the ocean between them. It threaded a sense of hope into her heart and eased her fears. Like if she put her lungs to it and shouted loud enough, her voice would carry enough for him to hear her on the other shore.

So stupid.

"I thought you'd appreciate a cup of coffee right about now."

She closed her eyes, trying to ward off the tears that instantly built up on her lashes at the deep voice that came from her right.

"How did you find me?"

"I think I told you that I will always find you, Lizzie," he said as he sat himself on the other end of the bench, placing the cup of hot coffee between them and carefully not looking at her.

After a moment of silence, she accepted the cup and took a sip. It tasted heavenly and she could already feel her muddled brain waking up.

Red nodded, relieved that she was accepting the temporary cease-fire.

"Nothing happened between me and Maddie."

She snorted over her coffee in reply.

Red sighed. "Lizzie, she got dumped by her date and I offered her a room-"

"Your room."

"Lizzie, please. Nothing happened or could ever happen between me and Maddie. Between me and any other woman," he assured her, locking his gaze with hers. "How could it when I'm so hopelessly in love with you?"

She stared at him, her breath baited. He gave her a small, resigned smile.

"You said I lived in the dark too long to be able to live in the light anymore."

"I- I didn't think you remembered a word from what I said."

He let out a small laugh. "I might not have looked it but I remember every single moment, Lizzie," he said with a meaningful glance.

She stared at him harder, trying not to get too light-headed and failing miserably.

"You were right," he acquiesced, dropping his head a little. "I'm afraid to make that step on my own," he said, raising his head to meet her eyes. "Teach me how to live in the light. Save me, Lizzie. Be my light. You're the only one who can."

Liz let out a shaking breath, closing her eyes because if she continued to look into his, she would drown. Instead she turned to look at the horizon.

She took a moment to take in the ocean before turning back to him, her eyes bright and wide. "I think you know I love you."

He simply stared at her, his face an immobile mask of astonishment and something much deeper. She saw he never expected her to say it back and it filled he with an even deeper feeling of warmth but also sadness. She leaned in closer, putting her coffee aside and taking his face in his hands. She placed the gentlest of kisses to his nose, his cheeks, the corner of his lips.

When she moved away, he asked in a hoarse whisper, "Say it again."

She smiled. "I love you, Raymond Reddington. And I would do anything for you," she added but she knew there was more she had to say as well. "But you've brought so much heartache and pain into my life, Ray. How can I be sure this time will be different? Can you promise me that it will?"

He could lie. He could talk her into this but Lizzie deserved more from him. He loved her too much.

"No," he said, his voice somber and lower than usual. "All I can do is promise that I will do everything in my power to try to make you happy."

"Why couldn't you lie just once, Ray?" she asked.

"I will never lie to you," he said, his voice colored with deep sorrow as he got up and stood in front of her. "Tomorrow morning I'm leaving this country for good. My last and best disappearance act. My yacht is sailing from this marina at nine. My jet is at your disposal. You have all the cards on the table now, Lizzie. I am letting you make your choice. I'm setting you free."

She looked up at him. He smiled at her and let his hand touch gently to her cheek, the tips of his fingers roaming over the high curve of her cheekbones and then her lips. She closed her eyes and sighed, relishing in his touch and the electric blades it sent through her skin.

Then, like a whiff of air, his touch was gone and he with it. She opened her eyes to see his back disappear in the distance.

She looked back out into the ocean, her thoughts as turbulent as the dark waves licking up the shore.

tbc.

So, what do you think Liz will choose? Another cliff-hanger, I know, but this is officially the last one – you will get the answer in the next chapter, which will be the final one. I hope you'll stay tuned for the last part of this small odyssey!

In the meantime, I hope you liked this and if Lizzington gives you squiggles in your heart too (or makes you feel anything at all really) then please review! :D