Red entered their bedroom... when it had became 'theirs' he had no clue. The turned on a low light before sitting on the side of the bed.
Pulling back the blankets, he scooted closer before raising the back of Liz's shirt, staring at the black stitching.
Touching one of the small cuts, he felt the cool of her skin. Good, no infection.
He traced a longer cut, scowling gently then smiled when she sleepily swatted at his hand, scratching at the itch his activity produced.
He felt his earlier anger melting into oblivion.
Running his fingers against the threading with a more pronounced touch, she mewled softly, yawning and stretching awake.
He leaned closer, his tone soothingly low. "You want me to take some of your stitching out?" He grinned when the woman rubbed her ear on her shoulder, taking away the shiver he had caused.
It had only taken him a short time to discover one of Elizabeth's weaknesses.
She was very responsive to the most sensitive of touches around her ears and throat.
With that knowledge, he never failed to take advantage of any opportunity presented.
Holding his position, his tone deepened, "Or do you want to wait for the nurses?"
Liz rubbed the tingles along her neck, opening her eyes slightly. "You do it." she said around a yawn, before she really considered the implication.
She had not wanted the nurses pawing all over her personal space. And then she remembered... Red would be in her personal space.
"I'll be right back." the man rolled from the bed crossing to the bathroom, coming back moments later with little scissors and tweezers. "Did you sleep well?" he made small talk, sensing an awkwardness now that wasn't there before. He was slightly amused, also sensing the cause.
"Yeah." She stared at the covered windows blocking out the sun. "What time is it?"
"Almost ten." Red gently raised her shirt, turning her more to her stomach. "I bet you're hungry. You didn't wake last night." he began the task at hand.
"I can wait a little bit." She hugged her pillow, rolling over, giving him a better view of her back. "Anything going on this morning." it was her turn to make small talk. She found the situation suddenly unbearably intimate.
His hands were warm and sensitive and it was very pleasurable, to have him remove the burdensome thread.
Red knew sooner or later, Liz would start asking questions as she became more coherent.
It seemed today was that day. It was such a simple thing for her to ask, but not an easy thing for him to respond to since he promised never to lie to her.
Why he had promised that...
If he told her about the new victim, she'd fret about it all day. And the letters... should he confront her about them?
She was still weak, fatigued. Getting into an argument with her now would tire her further. Which would make him a huge asshole.
There had to be a middle ground.
Maybe there was?
The letters, he decided to hold off on. They could wait. She was safe here and would continue to be so, as long as she was with him.
Tom could keep sending his incoherent prose all he wanted because he was bound to slip one day and perhaps reveal his whereabouts.
The other problem was easy enough to fix, because she had been placed on medical leave.
"Donald called." She tensed, until he stroked her back gently with his fingers, eliciting a shiver and an instant release of the tension.
Another place she likes to be touched. He categorized, filing the knowledge away mentally.
"There's been another victim." He tweezed a piece of thread, pulling it free. "And before you go off and start thinking about it all day and tiring yourself out - stop. I will be helping them."
"If I could just see the..."
"Cooper said not to give you anything."
"He doesn't have to know."
"No." He raised the shirt further, snipping at a longer cut. "You're on medical leave. You're supposed to be resting and that's exactly what you're going to do."
"I can help. I'm not..."
"I said, no." He chuckled silently when she fell silent, pouting into her pillow. He freed the last of the thread. "This damn thing keeps falling in my way." he had attempted another section of her body, only to be frustrated by the fabric. "Take the shirt off."
Red helped her with the sleeves. "I know you're capable of looking at notes, Lizzy. But you wouldn't stop there." he knew the woman well. "You'll keep going until you're beyond exhausted."
He gently skimmed his hand down the curve of her spine, raising goosebumps on her soft skin. "You don't trust me?"
She shifted her head quickly, frowning at him. "Yes, I do."
"Then trust me when I say, I will do everything I can to find him." He didn't add that when he did find Carver... well, let's just say Red Reddington believed in an 'eye for an eye' retribution. "Roll over."
He handed her the discarded shirt, helping keep it in place over her breasts as she flipped. She trembled slightly as she settled.
"Are you cold?" he had noticed the fact.
She shook her head, grimacing as she adjusted her position.
"Your leg?" He grabbed a fluffy pillow, stuffing the cushion beneath her leg, sensing the problem.
Liz thanked him with a silent nod of gratitude.
"I'm not asking, just wondering." she couldn't get it out of her mind. "Has he gone after Edward yet?"
Red leaned in, closely examining a cut on her stomach. She visibly flinched. "Did that hurt?"
"No..." she answered a little too quickly.
He grinned, "Ticklish?"
She narrowed her eyes, making him laugh. "You act as though I'll use that knowledge to my advantage one day."
He touched her with more pressure, before cutting the thread. "No, he hasn't gone for Edward yet." Her stomach tightened when she felt his breath skirt over her warm flesh.
His glanced at her, his gaze a noncommittal one. This woman was most sensitive to touch. Never a bad thing in his point of view.
Red Reddington enjoyed all aspects of women. Their weaknesses, strengths, insecurities, confidence... the whole package fascinated him.
Lowering his head, he went back to work. "Besides, I think Carver made the team following Edward."
"Why do you think that?" She gasped when his index finger skimmed lightly against her belly button.
"With where I've sent him, Carver has had ample opportunity to make a grab for Edward." Red blew across her stomach, brushing off the stray threads. And if he was honest with himself, hoping for a reaction from her. And he got one when her stomach rippled, her eyes fluttering closed.
"What are you going to do?"
"Get you dressed and fed."
"I meant–"
"I know what you meant. Let me worry about that. All that's important right now is you."
Red followed more slowly behind Liz as she wheeled to the kitchen.
Liz's favorite parts of the day were when they dined together. She enjoyed watching Red Reddington being domestic, but mostly she had grown to love the discussions that took place over the meals.
For the first couple of days, Dembe had kept his silent vigilance off to the side, as was his way.
"I've been trying to get him to eat with me for years but he refuses." the man explained, having seen the situation vexed the woman to no end.
"You steal my fries." Dembe had mumbled.
And it went on from there. Friendly banter between the two men who had known each other for years.
Both so different, but yet so similar in nature. One boisterous, the other quiet. Outgoing, shy. Impulsive, cautious. Oil and water, but they mixed together somehow just perfectly.
After Dembe had left the room one day, Liz asked Red why the large man really refused to sit at his table.
"I made the mistake of taking him with me to meet an honest to goodness, mobster." Red waved his fork in the air. "Remind me to tell you about him someday. But Dembe saw this guy's bodyguards sitting at a different table, eyes on both doors. So of course, he picked up the habit." Red swallowed his food before continuing. "Occasionally he'll join me, but it's very rare."
They'd been dining for about ten minutes when today, Dembe made his appearance.
Red continued his story, the narrative nearing the end, "Natalia and I had a pleasant night then Dembe and I left in the morning."
Dembe shocked Elizabeth totally by bringing his plate and coffee, taking a place across from Red at the table.
Dembe, while cutting into his sausage, scoffed loudly.
"Dembe..." Red sighed, "I'm telling this story."
"What?" Liz glanced between the men, one perturbed, the other amused. "Okay, what's going on here?" she could not hold her own smile.
"Nothing." Red sipped his tea, giving the other man an ominous brow. The muscled man smiled in return to the glare he was receiving, popping a piece of bacon in his mouth.
"Dembe. What's he hiding?" Liz was all ears. "Come on!" she beseeched. "Now I know something happened. You have to tell me!"
Red sat back in his chair, folding his arms leisurely. Dembe immediately pulled his chair closer to the woman, eager to tell his version of the events.
Red accepted his fate with good graces.
"He's leaving out... that another woman that had been interested in him that night, told Natalia that he had been making advances to her." the gory details were gleefully related. "I can't speak of the events that took place after he left with Natalia, but I do know that sometime during his stay there... Natalia left with his pants and the phone from her room." Dembe shook his head woefully, embarrassed for his friend. "He had to walk back to our rooms in his oxford shirt and boxers... and nothing else."
Liz giggled behind her hand, envisioning Red walking straight and proud through the hallways, half naked. She wondered if he had put on his fedora?
"Why didn't you just call Dembe to bring you some pants?"
"She left his phone at the front desk." Dembe was only too glad to supply that bit of information.
"Look who's a heavy sleeper." Liz poked fun at Red.
"We never did actually get to sleep." Red poked right back. "When she received a call from her man in Tunisia, I showered." He sipped his coffee. "I should have left her basking in the afterglow before making myself vulnerable or better yet, I should gone to my room." He shrugged, then took a bite of his waffle.
"Why didn't you?" Liz asked curiously.
"Truthfully, I was hungover. An oddity for me." he now knew why however. "I had a splitting headache and felt like hell." he remembered the incident but not fondly. " By the time I went walking off to my room, I could have given a damn about what I was or wasn't wearing." he looked at Dembe meaningfully. "Really, everyone should have been happy I got dressed as much as I did."
"What had you been drinking?"
"The usual. Which is why I went looking for her." Red smiled. "It wasn't until I tracked the little minx down, that she confirmed she had spiked my drink when I was distracted."
"So that's why you always carry your glass or have it in reaching distance now." Liz finally understood. "What happened to her?"
"I turned her in on a small drug charge." he held up a stilling hand. "Had to serve only a year, but for her it was pure torture." he offered a sympathetic face. "I imagine she'll be at Mark's this year trying to rebuild her contacts... and to kill me."
Great... thought Liz, as if it wasn't enough, she was nervous as hell to be around his friends, now she had to deal with one of Red's old lovers as well.
She was aware that she paled in comparison to Madeline. Who knew what other type of women she would be compared to while there. This was becoming more difficult as they went along.
Dembe finished off his breakfast, then informed Red he was going to check in with the guards. He excused himself and left.
"What's wrong?" Red stacked his dishes, pushing them to the side.
"Nothing..." She fiddled with her napkin. A sure sign to Red that something was in fact, bothering her.
"Lizzy. I promised not to lie to you. I would hope you would return the favor." He added mumbling, "At least most of the time."
"Exactly how many of your old lovers might be at Mark's?"
"A couple, maybe. Why?"
"I'd like to prepare myself."
"I will be there you know." he reminded. "You won't have to face them alone."
"Yeah, until you go off for something work related or I go to the bathroom." she sighed heavily. "Women have a weird habit of cornering one another in the ladies room."
"I did not know that." he confessed, holding his amusement. "Listen, most of my old paramours are more concerned with my demise and the method thereof... they probably will not even notice you are about."
"Thanks..." the woman replied peevishly. "That makes me feel so much better."