After Liz had fallen asleep, Red pulled a chair over near the bed, propping his legs on the mattress. He sat, adjusting the light throw over his legs, closing his eyes, a smile appearing unbidden on his lips.
The day had turned out relatively well. The woman's appetite was good and she had finally relaxed into the questions with had peeked her interest.
The enquiries had turned progressively more personal. A fact that he had enjoyed.
It had been a long day, but a very productive one.
Settling into the chair, the man relaxed himself, slipping into a light sleep.
A couple of hours later, Red awoke to a slight jar in the mattress. Raising his head, he watched Liz unsuccessfully attempting to arise from the bed.
"Why didn't you wake me?" He sat up, rubbing his face tiredly.
"I can do it," she pushed against the bed, finally edging to the side, "go back to sleep."
"Lizzy, you can't use your crutches yet. You're still too weak." He got up out of chair, offering an arm.
"I said I can do it." she practically snapped.
"I'll just stand here until you change your mind and decide your pride means nothing when compared to pissing the floor."
She huffed, reluctantly taking the offered arm. But after standing, pulled her arm, attempting a shaky step.
"What's wrong?" Red held his hands out on either side of her, in case she fell.
"Nothing. I feel better now." the pissiness had not abated. "You can go about your daily business. I can get around fine."
"Did I do something to piss you off?" Red was lost. Yesterday had gone so well, they talked and had a pretty relaxing day. Now this.
"No, I can take care of myself." shades of the old Elizabeth Keen had arisen.
Irritation didn't even begin to describe what Red felt in that moment.
Annoyance was a good word, but anger was an even better one.
He was angry. Damned angry.
"I don't know what your problem is lately, but I've had enough." Red looped her arm around his neck, more carrying her than helping her, to the bathroom. "I can understand your attitude when we first started working together, for the most part, but now... you need to grow the hell up."
"Excuse me." she took exception, attempting to shake free of his assistance.
"You say we're done, then call me two hours later for help." the man was all too willing to explain. "You say you can take care of yourself but The Stewmaker, Tom Keen, and now, Carver, just to name a few... have gotten the better of you." he was on a roll. "You go behind our backs, keeping Tom a prisoner and what do you have to show for that fiasco? An innocent man, dead."
Leaving her standing alone in the middle of the bathroom, he turned at the sink, his expression more than vexed.
"Those were situations outside the bell curve. No one could have predicted the outcome if they had been in the same place." she defended herself.
"That's because no one else would have put themselves in that situation to begin with. I'll give you the Stewmaker, because you were surrounded by your team," he grated, facing her squarely, "But Tom... the Pavlovich brothers would have stayed had you asked them. You could have called Ressler for back up. And Carver..."
"Carver wasn't my fault." she practically yelled.
"It could have been prevented had you left with me in the first place. I warned you." he reminded tactlessly. "I continuously warn you and you ignore me every single time." he refused to back down. "I don't know where you got the notion that you couldn't ask anyone for help. Every one needs assistance at some time or other."
"Well, if we're laying cards on the table here. I wouldn't be in any of these situations were in not for you." she pointed out bleakly. "I was a Criminal Profiler. I was supposed to sit behind a desk for my entire career."
"Thanks to your parents and your chosen profession, it wouldn't have stayed that way for long." he told the harsh truth. "It's easier to find you now."
"You mean like by your friends and associates?" Liz said sarcastically.
"Stop being so damned naive Elizabeth. The world is not as black and white as you make it out to be." and who would know that better than Red Reddington. "Those people are not what you think they are. I'm not who the Feds... who you, think I am."
"And who are you and your friends, pray tell?" Liz dismissed, already knowing what type of men they were.
"Do you mean the men who spent a whole evening cock-blocking Edward?"
"Cock-blocking?" Liz frowned at the rude term.
"They kept him from you the whole night. Not an easy task, let me assure you." he assured her. "There were three of us and Dembe, and that little bastard almost slipped past a few times." He had actually meant to keep that information from her. "They didn't even know you and went out of their way to protect you from him."
"I didn't know..."
"That's the whole point. You don't know anything. Always just assuming." he laid it on the line. "Or believing what you're told by a government that's full of cheats and liars and worse."
Liz stood, shell shocked.
"Mark operates half-a-dozen orphanages and scholarship programs around the world. Michael and his wife, who you'll meet soon, have fostered and adopted so many abused children, the house is a virtual jungle gym." he warmed to his narrative. "Francis has Children's Homes and Women's Shelters. And I could not even begin to list all their charities." he defended his associates. "You tell me how many in your government are that compassionate, benevolent?
"If they're so angelic then why the criminal activity."
"I could say the same thing about the politicians you champion." he answered angrily. "Even with their circumstances, more influential parents, better connections, the right prep schools - they are performing the very same criminal activities, only their press agents and Government counterparts, cover their every indiscretion." Red knew how the world operated. "And if you take into account my associates supposed criminal activities are only labeled as such for not paying taxes..."
"They're drug runners, Red."
"No, they aren't." he corrected cooly. "They take merchandise stolen by governments, meant to be supplied to the lower class, and sell it back to the bastards at a higher cost granted, but cheaper than retail."
"They're still stealing from the poor."
"Are you listening to me?" he snapped. "No, of course you aren't. What might have been sacks of grain that the disenfranchised were supposed to receive, my people have instead, turned the profits into shelters, schooling, medical aid and real food."
"And how do you fit into all this?"
"I don't have to defend myself to you, or anyone." he curtly advised. "We're only criminals because the governments are getting screwed by us financially. We know all their dirty secrets." he abruptly waved a hand. "We skirt the rules that others obey, moving easily under the radar. We are untouchable."
"You had a prestigious Navy career, a family." she was still at a loss. "You chose this life."
"I didn't choose anything." he corrected heatedly. "Listen carefully, because I'm not going to repeat this."
Liz fell silent, listening.
"I'm not going to tell you much of, well, anything. You won't believe me anyway." Red snapped. "What I will say is that, from the time you went to Sam until I disappeared, I, along with your mother... worked diligently to bring down the Cabal."
She suddenly realized, during his narrative, that she had been four when she went to stay with Sam, but Red hadn't vanished until over four years later.
"I suppose we got close." he granted, the man paced slowly back and forth before the woman, continuing his tale. "Too close. Things went sideways, quickly."
Red waved her off. "They hid my family. They went to the press, saying I stole government secrets. Turned my fucking life upside down in less than a week." he halted hastily, getting his bearings. When finally he spoke, it was in a softer tone. "I was made the patsy."
"But you did steal secrets."
"Yes, after the fact." Red stated simply. "I figured I might as well do what I was accused of doing." he explained. "No one seems to remember those secrets were sold four years after I vanished and were current Intel." he stressed. "If I had them to begin with, why wait to sell them."
"Okay, so you stole them four years later. Why?"
"I needed the capital and connections." he shrugged, waving off any further questions. "So no... I did not choose this life. I am what they made me. I suppose I should thank them, being that I seem to have found my calling."
"Why do you keep going then?" she was more than confused. "You could just stop."
"And do what exactly. Tell them to give me a fair trial and to take me off the most wanted list because I've been framed?" he laughed at the absurdity. "Why do you think I'm doing what I do?" he was dumbfounded.
"It's to find the all the people who put me here. Without them, their stories, nothing will change." he shook his head, turning aside. "Besides, if there's anything they taught me, it's that I finish the job." he said coldly. "Call it revenge if you want. But I will end this."
"I'll help." she meekly offered, having realized what a bitch she had been.
"Without the attitude!" he warned. "I'm not the enemy." he pointed an accusing finger.
"In the end, we both want answers from the people who put us in this position. So you want to be pissed off at someone, be pissed at them." it was strongly suggested. "If that's a problem, I can keep you updated and continue to protect you. But I can do this with or without you."
"I want... I need answers." she reminded herself and the man.
"Then we'll find them together." he turned and exited, leaving Elizabeth staring after him.