AN: Thank you for your continued support in this writing endeavor, especially with the last "transitional" (thanks JessahmaeWren) chapter. Please read and review, if so inclined. I still own nothing of the Blacklist.
Chapter 9
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Red ended his last phone call with a terse, "See that it gets done! Or you can be certain Morena will learn of your little imbroglio with the married couple in Gstaad…and in Salzburg. Those hills were alive with more the sound of music, and I'll remind you that I have an excellent recording of it all."
He huffed and stowed his phone away in his jacket pocket. The last three conversations had given him the necessary distance from that scene with Lizzie. He had regained a bit of his composure, though it had been a near thing.
I don't know if I should be terrified or relieved that she knows. Red sighed, leaned forward and steepled his fingers under his chin. I've planned for this for so long, and while Lizzie has always been part of my endgame, she was also always the unpredictable variable. He rubbed his hands over his head in amusement. But I suppose that's one of the many reasons I feel they way I do about her.
He was still musing over that last thought when the door opened and Menace stuck her head out.
"Mr. Reddington, may we have a moment of your time? We found something in Etienne's collection of samples. It's a bit different then what you requested, so your feedback would be much appreciated." Red placed his hands back on his knees and stood up, retrieving his fedora and jacket from the chair beside him.
"Ms. Menace, I'm certain if Lizzie likes it, it will suit perfectly. She has excellent taste, a fact that was not well reflected in her current professional wardrobe due to her frustrating tendency towards practicality. "Red followed her back into the room, and lifted his eyes.
His heart somersaulted, and kept moving, despite the fact that he was frozen in place. He could imagine it continuously rolling until it reached Lizzie's feet, where he felt it truly belonged. After all, what else does one sacrifice to a goddess?
Red's eyes traveled from the softly rounded hem of her dress. It was a vibrant purple, the color of tropical orchids, the fabric a rich silk charmeuse, and was luminous in the late afternoon light. He took in how it flowed over her thighs and gently encased her hips. Above, her slender waist was accented with a belt that appeared to be made of intricately knotted silk. His eyes stopped at a pair of anxious hands held directly at her waist, and a thumb worrying a scar.
Inwardly he smiled, and continued his journey up the artfully cut bodice, to the beautiful lines of a single exposed shoulder, the graceful curve of her neck, and then the most perfect blue eyes on Earth. Admittedly, they were even more beautiful when Lizzie didn't look so nervous, but he would do what he could to reassure her.
Forcing his face to remain composed, and never taking his eyes off of her, Red again approached Lizzie. Instead of remaining in front of her, he lifted a single finger and placed it directly under the belt at her waist. He began a slow circuit around her.
I'm orbiting her body, like it is the sun. An apt comparison, he thought.
His finger slipped over the lush fabric as he continued. Red thought Lizzie was holding her breath.
Returning to his original position, his finger remained about two inches above her navel. He dropped his hand to take hers, lifting them both to his mouth.
Again, while maintaining eye contact, he kissed the back of both hands, folded them over each other, and pulled them down so they were covering his own heart.
Red knew that she would understand. No one, especially one as perceptive as she, could misinterpret the racing pulse of his heart.. He felt his face open into a smile that was likely ridiculous in its frank affection, and was truly gratified to see it mirrored on her face.
For once, he wouldn't even try to use words. And she would understand.
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Menace and Genevieve continued to bustle around them, wrapping up an outfit that Lizzie could take with her, assuring their customers that the premade garments would be finished and delivered to Lizzie's home the following Friday. Their comment gave her pause, and she tore her eyes away from Red.
He sensed her conflict. "Ladies, if you would, please have it all delivered to this address." He dropped her hands to move to one of the sewing tables and quickly wrote out directions on a notepad.
He returned to Lizzie, and caressed her arm to her wrist, and reclaimed her hand. He considered her for a moment, "If you like, I can have your earlier purchases rerouted there as well. I would hate for you to have to encounter any difficult questions."
Lizzie looked down and then back up, and nodded, gratefully. "It would be better that way. I won't truly enjoy them until after I resolve a few issues at home." She blushed, lightly. "And I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about all those undergarments. They're not really to be shared with others. Do you agree, Red?"
He smiled, eyes crinkling and nodded. "Precisely what I was thinking, dear. Now, if you wouldn't mind removing that exquisite masterpiece of a dress, we should probably return you to your residence. I believe weekend suspensions were over at four. As it is approaching six, your presence is likely missed at home."
Lizzie sighed and smiled. "I wish I didn't have to."
One would be hard pressed to determine whether she was referring to taking off the dress or returning home. Both interested parties reasoned it was equal parts of both.
She gathered the skirt in her hands and swayed side to side a little. "I never thought I'd try on a dress like this. I feel like a belle without a ball." She laughed, slightly embarrassed, and shook her head. "I've never worn something that made me feel so beautiful."
"Lizzie, I may sound like a dusty college professor, but 'It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds.' The dress suits you, but it is but it's much like a well crafted piece of jewelry. The setting might be exquisite, but its function is to only to display a jewel to its best advantage." He smirked, and bowed a little, and turned away to conclude his business.
Lizzie turned to Menace, unsure if she felt juvenile and silly or ridiculously charmed. Menace laughed, and gestured to the back.
"Let's get you dressed back there. We don't want to expose the fabric to any more heat." She grinned, "I don't even need a steam press with you both here."
Lizzie blushed a deeper red, and followed her back.
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They said their goodbyes to the sisters, and began their walk out to the car. Red's shoulder bumped once, then twice into hers. Then she felt his hand take her own. They never broke their stride, but the casual observer would have witnessed the space between them dissolve, until they walked almost as a single entity.
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Little was said in the Mercedes, but their hands remained intertwined. As the car stopped in front of Lizzie's house, she turned towards Red. After pursing her lips for a moment, she leaned over, ran her hand along his jaw and placed a light kiss alongside his lips. Pulling back, she whispered, "Thank you for everything, Red."
She ran her hand along his jaw yet again and Dembe opened her door. She turned back to see a pensive Red, holding his cheek. She smiled once, brilliantly, and exited the car.
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Tom was inside, sorting through the myriad of remains inside the fridge, humming a mash up of 80's power ballads. He could never keep them straight, and often would mix one song's bridge with its refrain. It never failed to make Lizzie laugh, but in this moment, she just felt tired.
He closed the door and smiled. "Thought I heard you come in. What did you get up to on your day off? I saw that the Nutella jar was still full." He chuckled.
Lizzie pulled out one of the bar stools and sat, looking back up at him. "I just went window shopping, got some lunch and did a whole lot of thinking."
Tom laughed. "I know that look, and it's trouble. What is it this time, Liz? Do you want to redecorate? Should we repaint the dining room again?"
His smile faded as he finally took in her expression. "Liz, what's wrong?"
She looked at the counter, and then slowly met his eyes. She exhaled, "Us."
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Much later, after the last shouts had quieted, tears had dried, and the sound of a door slammed in anger began to fade from her mind, Lizzie turned on the shower, hoping the water would wash away some of her lingering guilt and grief. She stood in front of the mirror in her blue lace. Her fingers smoothed over a strap and for a moment, she closed her eyes.
She traveled back to this afternoon, and her body remembered the sensation of being encased in charmeuse, of feeling strong and beautiful. The touch of a finger tracing her waist, leaving warmth and desire in its wake.
Her hands recalled the rapid beat of a heart, now far across the city.
And she felt at peace, even amidst all the uncertainty, because he would be there.
AN: So, I think that this might be it. I've been kicking around a one-shot that might continue the…romance…down the line, but might need a little encouragement. I am beyond grateful for the reviews, praise and even the bit of critique I received. I want to become better at all this. Also, if you'd like to continue to review, it might motivate me to finish up that one-shot. Just a thought. J