Merci! Thank you for inspiring me and for your kind words. I am so excited to be writing a story that I keep posting chapter so quickly no doubt :P

Chapter 3

Dinner time in the Milhoan household was normally an uneventful one, yet that evening it was different.

For once, it was not just Elizabeth and her father, sharing a quiet and content silence as they ate; the noises of scraping forks and knives being the only sound in the room. No, they had another person at the dinner table tonight for once, a new guest, and that evening, it was unusually louder and boisterous with more easy-going conversation equally spread around the table.

Before dinner, Sam had suggested they all spend a moment in silence while he said Grace, something that happened between Elizabeth and her father naturally before they began to eat their dinner. Just because there was a new visitor at the table this evening, it didn't mean that they were just going to forgo their normal routine. And, if Elizabeth had to be honest, it would have felt like sacrilege if they had.

Red was not by any means of the word a religious person. He neither considered himself nonreligious either, however.

He believed in God and repenting for sins committed, and whatnot, yet over the past eight years, he had committed so many countless sins that usually he preferred to turn a blind eye to it most of the time. No doubt, in God's eyes, the sins he had committed were unforgivable. But he could not be rude and disrupt the natural patterns set in Sam's way of doing things, so he kept quiet and said not a word when Sam suggested they spend a quiet moment saying Grace before tucking into the meal.

He believed, with all his heart, that there was no such thing as a salvation for him. Little more did he believe there was such a chance for redemption.

Easily falling into their normal habit, Elizabeth reached over to clasp hands with her father; their usual way of doing it. Seated in the chair opposite her, was Kenneth, and she hesitated as he held out a bigger, much more masculine hand towards her. Finally, she let her hand rest in his. She hardly heard a single word her father was saying.

Elizabeth felt too preoccupied with how it felt to have her hand resting in his. She feared her fingers were shaking, that her palm had grown increasingly sweaty as it rested against his and that, somehow, he would take notice. In that second, she did not understand how people could develop infatuations on someone or ridiculous crushes and not have the object of their affection finding out. How could someone possibly act normal around that person? How could they even function properly?

Prayer concluded and Elizabeth felt she could breathe much easier once they all broke apart, moving their hands away to pick up their silverware. As a low hum of companionable chatter broke out between her father and his friend, Elizabeth remained silent, managing to have avoided looking at the man sitting across from her for the rest of the night.

That night, Elizabeth found it difficult to fall asleep again, just as it had been for her the night before.

Her mind was far too restless, making it hard for her to fall asleep. She was finding it hard to focus on nothing else but the ringing peaceful silence in her room, the dark room and ceiling.

She sighed loudly, flipping over onto her back again with a groan.

She could not believe how ridiculous she was being. If only Kenneth knew just what a profound affect he was having on her...

She could not seem to get him out of her brain, no matter how many times she tried to do so in blocking him out mentally. Surely there had to be something deeply wrong to be feeling this way about someone so far out of her league and so unattainable. Realistically, nothing should happen between them while he was there, staying in the house. It couldn't, and for obvious reasons, Elizabeth felt absolutely certain that he did not- and would not ever- reciprocate any part of her childish and instantaneous infatuation.

For one thing, she was mostly likely just a child in his view. He probably even had a wife already, or was in a committed relationship with a woman his own age. He even possibly had a daughter her age, therefore automatically making her repugnant to him by precondition.

She didn't even know him realistically speaking. The only tidbits of information she knew about him, was that his name was Kenneth Rathers, he worked in finance and accounting, and that he has always been a close friend of Sam's. And that was where it ended. She did not know where he came from, where he was born, or his marital status. Anything significant about him was currently unknown to her.

She shouldn't be so taken with a man she didn't know. While he was undoubtedly handsome in physical appearance, that often did not mean he also came with a quality heart and kindness to go along with those looks.

Unfortunately, her hormone induced brain wasn't cooperating with her. He would be leaving the house and would be gone in a few more weeks time, and then, hopefully, she would move past it and forget all about the man that wouldn't seem to stop invading her brain with every minute of the hour.

But her young mind told her that perhaps this was love. How else could it explain the great deal of emotions she already felt for the man? Nothing to such this extent had happened to her before which is why she put her trust in it.

While she became well aware that whatever notions she had of him ever reciprocating were pure fantasy, it felt like love to her. Isn't that what they liked to preach in romance novels? That love was instantaneous and at first sight? It felt like the way love must feel, if there was even such a thing as being possible to love a man while not knowing barely anything about him.

Fed up with simply laying in bed when sleep kept evading her, she sat up, getting out of bed. She needed to do something to distract herself, anything to make her feel more sleepy so that her brain would properly switch off for the night. She switched on the lamp on her beside table. It was already past eleven at night and she had to get up early to walk to school tomorrow.

She opened her bedroom door, descending down the steps so that she could go into the kitchen. The house was quiet at this time of the night with only the sound of the clock in the hallway ticking. As she went towards the kitchen, she thought she heard the doors of the cupboards being opened then shut frantically.

Red found himself unable to sleep tonight.

He sneaked back down to the quiet dark kitchen, raiding the refrigerator, hoping to find something substantial enough to his high standards to drink. A nice bottle of mature blend scotch or a bottle of Cinsaut, enough to have a decent decadent glass full.

Back in the day, before everything had happened, Sam and him had been known to both be enthusiastic drinkers, simply because it was a common rite of passage from youth into adulthood. Much to his dismay, as he peered inside the fridge at all the minimal contents inside that consisted of foods and butter, he found no secret bottles of alcohol stashed anywhere.

He was accustomed now to having a few glasses of wine, scotch, or basically any single liquor he was able to find as a relaxing completion of the night before he went to bed. But apparently with the way in which Sam now lived, the likelihood of getting to do that was next to nil. His old friend had obviously changed his ways dramatically over the years after Lizzy, yet Red still felt mildly skeptical. Surely Sam had to be hiding some hard liquor somewhere inside the house, perhaps somewhere not within Lizzy's sight or hands-reach?

He heard the noise just as he doubled back, beginning to search through all the kitchen cupboards despite of how dark it was. Either Sam or Lizzy were descending down the stairs. He could hardly find it within himself to care if he had woken them.

As Elizabeth slowly padded into the kitchen, she saw the shadowed silhouette of a man as he fussed around with opening their kitchen cupboards. They were obviously searching for something, though she was unsure what. Until she heard that distinctive voice.

"Would you happen to have any idea on earth of just whereabouts it is that Sam hides his secret stash of hard liquor?"

She was momentarily frightened until she connected the voice to the man it had belonged to in her mind. Inside, she felt tingling, just by the sound of his voice alone. "If you think you are going to find any alcohol in this house, then you're going to be disappointed," she explained breathlessly. "My dad stopped bringing alcohol into the house ever since I turned around eight years old, I think."

"Hmm, its as much as I thought. Can't sleep?"

"No. I have to be up by seven thirty tomorrow because I have school and yet, here I am, still wide awake and unable to sleep." Somehow it was easier to talk to him when he was immersed in shade and she couldn't see him properly. It made her feel braver, more confident. "Obviously you can't either, I take it?"

"No, unfortunately I can't myself. Normally I require a nightcap of something strong and bitter but obviously that cannot be done here if Sam doesn't have any liquor stashed away." His tone was brusque. "Perhaps I'll have to resort to old medieval means instead." Elizabeth wasn't completely sure she understood what he was saying to her, but she pretended she did with a nod, regardless of whether he could see her properly in the dark kitchen or not. All she was aware of, was that she definitely could not see him all that well. "You know, they say a good cure to insomnia and a restless night is to find some nifty and creative way to expend some of the excess energy from within."

"Oh?" she said, a nervous laugh escaping her. "And what do you recommend as a way to expend some of my excess energy?"

He started feeling a little more heated as he considered asking his next question, feeling as though he were years younger again and more like a boy who was anxious to ask his date for a dance. Was it appropriate? Would it be crossing an invisible line in the sand that Sam would not be too pleased about?

"How about a dance?" Red wasn't sure what it was he was trying to do with her, but he knew Sam would not appreciate what he was doing nevertheless.

Elizabeth's heart felt as though it had stopped functioning as she turned to try to look at him head on, inspecting him anxiously with her eyes when she could discern just the faintest outline of his facial features. She was not sure whether Kenneth was just joking with her to try and get a laugh out of her or whether he was being sincere. But when he stepped towards her to stand in front of her she saw him better in the shadows obscuring the kitchen. Noticing the dark, solemn look in his green eyes as he gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, it occurred to her that it was mostly the latter. He was being deadly serious and trepidation filled her.

She hadn't danced much with anyone over the years. In fact, dancing with a partner was not something she was at all familiar with. She feared she would come across as foolish and ungraceful if she had agreed to it.

"I...I don't know if that would be such a smart idea," she admitted hesitantly with another short laugh. "I haven't even danced with anyone before. I'm not even totally sure I know how to. I'll just end up making a fool of myself."

"You'll be a quick study, I'm sure. It's quite simple and, if needed, I can easily lead you?"

He was safe. He was a good man. He knew her father and her father was extremely selective on whom he considered to be his friends. If Sam considered him one of his closest friends, then what reason did she have not to let her walls come sliding down and trust him, even at the expense of making a laughing stock out of herself?

He stepped back a few steps to where the widest part of the kitchen was with the most space, offering out an outstretched hand. Elizabeth knew it was bound to be embarrassing for her and awkward, but she moved towards him obediently.

"Okay, fair enough." She couldn't actually believe she was agreeing to dancing with him, particularly at eleven thirty at night, of all times. "I bet I'll be really bad at this. Consider yourself warned though."

Facing one another and forming into what she presumed was the regular and correct dancing position, she brought out her hand reluctantly in which Kenneth intertwined his fingers through hers. His eyes met and held hers as their palms pressed together before their fingers interlocked and fit between the gaps; his fingers so much longer than hers that they extended just past her knuckles.

She felt lost and unsure of what to do, and she laughed again at her own sheer awkwardness. Standing so close the way they were, she couldn't help noticing he was just only barely four inches or so taller than her.

"You'll need to put your other hand on my shoulder, Lizzy."

She was thankful for his guidance, as she would have felt lost otherwise. It reassured her when his tone did not sound judgmental over her inexperience with dancing; His low voice had sounded understanding.

She hesitated a moment before lifting her arm, pressing her hand down into the curve of his shoulder blade as he lowered his arm from her side to rest his hand just above her hipbone. Their closeness and the positions of their bodies flustered her all of a sudden, and she found peering into his eyes if not more difficult than she usually did.

She had never stood so close to a man before, and particularly not one she had found herself attracted to so much.

"We'll start on this foot," he said, bending his knee to nudge which one he meant.

She got confused a few times, stepping in the wrong direction as the front of her clothes rustled up against his in the dark kitchen, but with a sharp breath in, she forced her tense muscles to loosen and relax. It took awhile, but soon her mind was blank of any self-conscious thought or feeling and it turned into something she found herself enjoying.

She discovered that Kenneth was a remarkable dancer, if not an even better dancing partner. He did not seem to judge her outwardly when she made a misstep. In fact, he barely even went to comment on it. Though his face was blank of any outwards expression as he peered deeply into her eyes, she presumed he was enjoying himself just as much as she was.

Red never once in his wildest dreams thought he would be standing here now, dancing with the little girl he had managed to save from the fire over eleven years ago.

She was so much... more than he expected, and he found himself entranced with how quite careless and carefree she became after each mistake she made or each time she accidentally ended up stepping on his toes. She did not seem like a woman who had experienced a rather traumatic event during her childhood years, yet at the same time, she had. There were silent moments there where she expressed a sort of vulnerability and reservedness. But despite all that evidently she had managed to successfully rise above it and he envied her for it.

Underneath his hand he felt the firm, taut skin above her hip through the polyester of her short-sleeved pajama shirt. The fabric was thin and light enough that he thought he could feel the warmth of her skin radiating through it. When she clenched her eyes shut to turn up her head to laugh, he allowed himself to take her distraction to his advantage in permitting his eyes to roam lower.

The shirt was not immodest or plunging, yet he found her pale, elongated throat and her collarbone one of her most alluring features, a near second to her eyes and her smile. If he hadn't been in total control of himself and the situation, he may have been tempted enough to dip his head, to kiss her neck and to trail his kisses up and over her chin, ravishing her in the dark of the kitchen.

It was an impulse so overwhelming and indecent that it struck him like a hard slap across the face.

He shouldn't be thinking in such a way, he reminded himself as he mindfully raised his eyes to her face again. Such lewd thoughts should not be made towards a young woman like her, especially given her age. He knew beyond any level of doubt that Lizzy had no such impulses or feelings towards him in response. No doubt, she would consider him a disgusting old man if he had ever admitted to such things.

It was just the mere fact that he hadn't gotten laid in quite some time that was contributing to it. He was only viewing her in a sexual manner due to the fact that he hadn't been with a woman in over a year, and it was lonely. Lonely and frustrating.

He was merely projecting his sexual fantasies onto Sam's adopted daughter. It did not mean what he thought he wanted to do with her was something he actually would follow through and do to her. Thinking was one thing, while actively doing was an entirely other. He hadn't been in the proper company of an attractive woman in a year, it had nothing to do with the way he had perceived Lizzy herself now that she had grown. Or so he tried hard to convince himself.

She spoke and he was thankful he had something to properly take his mind off his conflicted thoughts about her. "For an old man, you're pretty quick and light on your toes."

"Ouch," he said briskly, wincing in offense. He had become increasingly sensitive about his age over the years, though he could not tell if she was making a joke. "You don't truly consider thirty-eight old, do you now, Lizzy?" He could not tell if she was teasing him.

Lizzy seemed to consider, biting down on her bottom lip with her front teeth. "Maybe not," she answered slowly after a moment, unknowingly both easing and reassuring his mind. "But it is pretty old, definitely in comparison to me."

Of course it was. And that was why everything about what he was doing with her was so inherently wrong.

"I'm so, so terribly sorry," he said in disgust before he could stop himself, his throat tightening as though an invisible hand had shot out to grip over it, clenching down onto his oesophagus to the point where speaking became virtually painful. "I made such a mistake, asking to dance with you."

His tone caught Elizabeth off-guard and she felt her mouth hang open in confusion when he pried his hand out of hers, almost as if her skin had suddenly been capable of burning him; his other hand dropping from its position just slightly above her hip as he stepped back two paces. Now that he had stepped back, he had fallen back into the cover of the shadows.

"Your sorry?" she repeated, searching for him in the dimly lit darkness surrounding her helplessly. "Kenneth?"

Next thing she heard, was his footsteps as he ascended up the stairs to the guest bedroom hurriedly.

Here is another chapter. Thank you so much for inspiring me to write more, it is so nice to be so welcomed in, especially when I have never written Blacklist fan fiction before. Nervous about this one and I do hope my writing is correct English in most places. I also understand it isn't true to the show, but hopefully will still remain true to the characters and their traits.