Set at the end of 2x04 Dr. Linus Creel. Reddington kisses his wife goodbye. This time for real.

I.

What a foolish girl she was, looking out that window in an act of pathetic, ugly voyeurism. She was watching as Reddington kissed his wife's forehead goodbye and noticed that his lips lingered on her skin. So, he liked the feel of her aging skin against his lips. He wanted to memorize it. Her body acted upon this terrible thought and her arms found themselves crossed in front of her aching chest. She was sulking; every last piece of her.

What a foolish girl she was - she refused to even blink. As if the millisecond of darkness would prevent her from missing something of tremendous importance. She was robbing them of their privacy. They weren't going to have this moment all to themselves. Of course, her unblinking eyes couldn't force him to detach his body from Naomi's. She was only punishing herself by looking.

What a foolish girl she was - they were not even divorced.

II.

What a sorry girl she was - Reddington's tenacious efforts to free Naomi from Berlin had been an endless source of electrifying anger. The kind of anger that felt almost satisfying in its blinding intensity. He wanted her alive and well. Not to be with her and not in order for the two of them to rebuild their marriage. He wanted nothing for himself. What a rarity that was. And she, herself, was not the reason for it. His selfless tenderness was splitting her in two – his kindness warmed her very essence. But his selflessness was meant for someone else this time. For once, she was not the center of his universe. And she couldn't be angry and miserable in peace.

What a sorry girl she was – a notorious criminal was more altruistic than she was.

III.

It was that easy – she and him on a bench after his wife's departure. His focus was back on Elizabeth and their odd union. It was that easy for him – his emotions always submitted to his will., But it was not easy for her.

"Are you alright, Lizzie?" he asked her when he finally noticed how upset she was.

"Are you?" she fired back as if they were fighting. But they weren't. Her anguish was hers alone. That palpable anger and the damned possessiveness – they were her very own hellhounds. They were hers to tame.

Jealousy was a lonely business.

"I am," he told her, looking at her. His eyes lingered. She knew what that meant. She was in tune with his subtlety.

"You kissed her goodbye," she informed him unnecessarily.

"I kissed her goodbye." An immediate agreement. He got a hold of her small palm and started to inspect it; palm and fingers alike.

"I can't be a consolation prize," she admitted.

"Never," he confirmed. He brought her palm up to cup his rough cheek. "You're the only prize, Lizzie."

She decided then, that she would let him have his moment of nostalgia for his lost family.

It was that easy.

Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta, Meaghan M (Juulna).