Author's Note: A personal favorite. And they said parents should never have a favorite child...
"You loved her," Elizabeth stated calmly, looking at the heavenly photograph of her younger self and Katerina Rostova swinging together into a happy oblivion. She felt there was no need to pose a question and wait for his roundabout answer. Still, she wanted to have his confirmation; a beheading with a clean, precise cut.
And confirm he did, "Yes." A merciful beheading, and a swift one, too. But there was a twisted catch with metaphorical deaths - one doesn't truly perish. And now she had to live with this incurable sickness - before her, there was her mother. Katerina had been intimate with Reddington when Elizabeth was a clueless toddler. The man she wanted had fucked her mother more than once. It must've been tremendous, she assumed. She wanted to put an end to this harmful spiral but found herself curious in the most twisted of ways.
There was another catch with metaphorical dying - one could die more than once. She knew she'd be dying every time she thought of Reddington climaxing inside her mother.
"Lizzie, this was a lifetime ago," he offered in an attempt to save her from drowning in the acid that was this predicament. "You… You're something else, in the best way possible."
"I need to process this. I need to find a healthy way to live with this," she explained rationally and straightened her trench coat.
"Don't leave like this, Lizzie." He implored her. He wanted for the two of them to be wrapped in the secretive cocoon of his secretive apartment. It was no use.
"I'll call you tomorrow, Red."
She was going to spend her day dying a thousand metaphorical deaths.
