I.

Elizabeth had an odd fondness for melancholy. It was peculiar, how she enjoyed its sweet, humbling ways; rather strange. What was even more curious was how readily she allowed it to sober her up, particularly in times of true joy. It was not that she was unable to experience happiness; she did. But she also understood its nature, she observed it. Instead of giving herself to it fully and living it without a second thought, Liz acknowledged the distinction between the various sensations true happiness provided and loved to memorize those moments of precious joy. She encapsulated them so that she could revisit the precise feel of them and feed her senses at a later time. Her soul was hardworking that way, much like an ant or a bee – she was storing those sensations for safekeeping. Later, when the actual moments of happiness were over, she enjoyed the sweet and humbling ways of nostalgia.

If asked, Elizabeth would answer that she was not unhappy or sad. It wouldn't be a lie. In fact, she was currently in the whirlpool of yet another state of pure joy. With Raymond. And once that overwhelming current subsided, because it was going to, she'd know how to recognize this precious sensation as a "Raymond moment". Quite strange, no doubt.

II.

They were together in her new bed. Reddington was lying on his soft stomach, with his hands underneath her pillow. It was then that she realized that the pull of premature melancholy was stronger than usual. She was not ready for their sacred sphere to feed her nostalgia. It felt good to remind herself that, above all, her sadness was indeed premature. He was there still. He seemed resolved to never part ways with her. "Never, ever" in fact. It was what he had promised her a few moments prior to letting her undress him that night. It was settled then - she was going to live inside her happy sphere this time and not just observe it.

III.

She knew she'd wake him, if she glided her fingers along his bare ribcage. If she started from the side of his stomach, he'd be awake by the time she reached the side of his chest. She'd never make it past his shoulder. She did it anyway.

She hadn't even reached the side of his breast when his hand left her pillow. He laid his palm flat, right atop her heart, then curled his fingers around the back of her neck and massaged her there.

"Is everything alright, Lizzy?" he asked, straight away, not quite ready to open his eyes.

"It is. It's how it should be," she said. That made him open both eyes and erased the natural sleepiness from them. Probably because ordinarily, he was the ominous one in their unlikely pair.

"Tell me." He was ready to listen.

"It's just that this moment is passing as we speak. We'll have more of the same, I hope," she explained, looking at him pointedly, as a playful reminder he was the one likely to fuck them up. "But this moment, the one we are in now. It's going to pass. Our sphere will change." Raymond would have discovered her loyalty to melancholy sooner or later. It was not something she was planning to hide, anyway. There: now he knew.

"We'll preserve our sphere, sweetheart." No questions regarding the sphere she was speaking of. He understood. He was in it with her.

IV.

Elizabeth liked to rank her most beloved "Raymond moments". A difficult task. Still, she loved it when she was lying on her back with his body wrapped around her and his mouth on her temple, near hers; that she loved the most. "Come here, between my legs. Yes, like that." She only had to give him directions once. It was not difficult to figure out she wanted his erect cock on her, pressed against her clit in the morning. So, he did what she liked, before she'd had the chance to ask him.

Because this moment was going to pass inevitably, they were going to recreate and multiply it. In their sphere.

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