Monday came and went with no word from Red.
And Tuesday.
And Wednesday.
Liz tried not to worry – he probably just had to leave town for business, to meet with associates or something.
She was unsuccessful. She wished he would at least answer her text message.
But Thursday and Friday passed and still nothing.
By the end of the week, her worry had morphed into something resembling anger. At 5:30, she decided that work could suck it, grabbed her bag and jacket, and marched to Samar's office.
Without bothering to knock, she swung the door open. "Drinks?"
Samar took one look at the storm on her friend's face and shut off her computer.
They ended up at a small neighborhood Mexican restaurant. An hour of chips, salsa, and margaritas later, Liz's phone vibrated to life on the table in front of them. They had silently agreed on leaving the phone in sight. There would be no hiding phones or pretending everything was fine tonight.
Nick's Pizza.
"Oh god," Liz breathed, slightly shocked. She hadn't actually been expecting a response at this point.
"It's him?" Samar asked, eyes widening.
Liz nodded, eyes glued to the phone as she swiped across the screen and opened her messages.
"Lizzie - I've been away on business. I apologize for the delay in response. Please let me know if you would still like to talk this weekend."
Without a word, Liz handed the phone to Samar. She needed another set of eyes, another mind, because hers seemed to have stopped functioning.
Quickly scanning the short text, Samar's eyes widened even further. "Okay, well. He answered. See? I told you. Nothing to worry about."
Liz gave her a look of disbelief. "You're joking right? Yeah yeah, he's fine. But now I actually have to talk to him."
Samar chuckled under her breath. "Wasn't that the plan?"
Liz groaned, knowing her friend was right. "Shit," she whispered.
She reached for her phone, and Samar handed it over. "Answer. Now. You need to know when this is happening so you can stop worrying."
"Samar-"
Samar cut her off. "Do it. If you don't text him back, I will."
Liz glared at her friend for a few seconds before sighing and reluctantly typing out a response. She paused with her thumb hovering above 'send.'
"Pull off the bandaid, Liz."
Liz rolled her eyes, pressing send.
She dropped her phone on the table as if it were burning her fingers. She didn't want it anywhere near her.
Samar eyed the phone before looking back at Liz with a glint in her eye and a grin spreading across her face. "Shall we strategize?"
"If we must," Liz sighed, sounding less than enthusiastic.
"We must."
"Yes, because you forced me to text him back."
"Hey, hey, don't blame me, you're the one who suggested meeting with him this weekend. It's not my fault he said yes."
Liz winced. "Sorry. I'm just... more than a little nervous."
"I know. It's okay. Do you know what you're going to say?"
Liz looked at her blankly.
"At all?"
Liz's blank look continued before she groaned again.
"I know what I want to say but I also know that I shouldn't say it."
"We've been over this. Listen to your heart, not your mind."
"You're just full of clichés," Liz replied.
"What can I say? I'm good with clichés. And honestly? Clichés are clichés for a reason. You should probably listen to them."
"I need more alcohol. Then and only then can we discuss this further." Liz smiled to show her friend that her firm tone wasn't meant to be hostile.
Samar started to get up, but Liz stopped her. "Nope, this round's on me. Remember?"
Liz returned with a pitcher rather than two refills.
Samar snorted. "Time to get down to business, I see."
Liz shot her a look. "If we're going to do this, I need this pitcher of margaritas by my side."
Samar lifted her hands in surrender. "I'm certainly not complaining." She took the pitcher, pouring full glasses for each of them.
Samar sipped at her margarita quietly, wanting to make sure Liz had plenty of time to gather her thoughts.
Liz, rather, gulped at hers, allowing her mind to sort through things as best she could.
She knew she cared about Red. Maybe even loved him. But was that enough?
She remembered herself in that horrifying nightmare from the previous weekend. Clutching his hand, afraid of letting go, terrified that if she relaxed her grip by even a fraction he would disappear. Please don't leave me. Just hold on. Please. Dream-Liz's words echoed in her head.
She thought of all the times he'd held her, comforted her. All the times he'd been there for her without question, even when she had been yelling at him, saying awful things to him, about him.
She grimaced. God, why had she said such awful things? He had been trying to help her, to save her, to protect her from the stranger sleeping in her bed and god knows what else. With her newfound knowledge of his apparent love, she felt even worse.
She tried to see the events of the past two years through his eyes. Not the eyes of Reddington the criminal. Through the eyes of the human being, the man in love.
She had to admit, it did make more sense.
Liz closed her eyes, trying to focus her attention on her own emotions. She remembered going to his apartment that night, the night he had drunkenly professed his love for her. Why had she even gone to see him that night?
She remembered drinking a glass of wine, settling in for a night of Netflix by herself in her motel room. She remembered crying. She had told herself she was crying because of whatever sad movie she was watching, but she knew she was lying to herself. She had really been crying for everything she had lost, all the things she thought she had before Red came into her life and turned everything upside down.
She had been crying because she was so, so lonely.
And she had gone to Red's apartment because she didn't know where else to go. She had known he would comfort her because that's what he always did.
Had she gone to him out of necessity? Because she had no one else? It was true, she didn't. But honestly? She had just wanted him to hold her close, to stroke her hair, to make her feel safe.
God, that was ironic. The FBI's fourth most wanted was the one person who made her feel safe.
Now she had Samar too. But she definitely hadn't memorized the shape of Samar's lips the way she had Red's.
She shut out the noise of the restaurant around them and tried to imagine what she would have felt if she hadn't stopped Red's drunken attempt to kiss her that night. What she would feel if he tried to kiss her again, sober, warm, soft. Safe.
Shit.
Liz pushed herself out of her chair, legs shaking.
Samar had been waiting patiently, but now she seemed startled. "Where are you going?"
"I need to see him. Right now. If I wait 'til tomorrow I'll overthink it, I'll talk myself out of it, I'll... I need to go." She turned abruptly, walking toward the exit.
Samar jumped up and followed after her. "Liz, wait. Let me come with you. Talk to me on the way."
Liz looked back at her. "Yeah, sure. Fine," she replied, distracted.
Samar followed her out into the night air, frowning. "You're slightly drunk right now, Liz. Definitely more drunk than I am, and I need to make sure you know what you're doing."
"I'm going to tell him-"
Samar cut her off. "I know what you're going to tell him. But are you sure you want to have that conversation drunk?"
Liz swallowed, looking thoughtful. "I'm not that drunk, Samar. Just buzzed. I know what I'm doing," she replied in a quiet, serious tone.
Samar looked into her friend's eyes for a moment, searching for the awareness Liz would need in order to talk to Red. Finding what she was looking for, she gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Okay. If you're sure."
"I'm sure." A cab stopped at the curb and Liz walked over to get in, but she paused when a sudden realization washed over her. "Shit. You can't come with me. This place, you can't know about it. He would be furious. I'm not even supposed to know about this place. I trust you, but I can't break Red's trust in this."
Samar nodded decisively in understanding. "He's secretive, I get it."
Liz got into the cab, but before she could close the door, Samar stuck her hand out to hold it still, a worried smile on her face. "Please, please text me or call me. As soon as you can. I may have a more sleepless night than usual."
Liz gave her a reassuring smile in return. "You'll be the first to know how it goes," she promised, before gently shutting the door.
Samar watched the cab drive off before getting in one of her own. She didn't particularly want to go home. But she would. She would go home, make some dinner (those chips and salsa weren't enough), and make sure her phone was with her at all times.
She pulled it out of her bag and held it tightly in her hand.