May 25
Liz had never been to Arlington National Cemetery before either. She now felt remiss for the fact. So many took for granted the price others had to pay that they could simply ignore the fact, if they so chose.
She assumed on this day, they would visit Jack's grave?
Damn... she wished she'd known. She would have bought more flowers or something just as fitting.
Glancing back at Francis, wishing there was some way to convey just how horrible she felt for arriving too such a solemn occasion without adequate–
Francis pulled the zipper on his jacket, showing a bouquet of flowers. The young man had remembered, where she had not.
But Francis had known where they were going, thankfully. She knew Red wouldn't have thought badly of her for not having brought anything, but she sure as hell did.
With hundreds of others around them bringing tokens of remembrance, she wouldn't have wanted their little group to be the only ones without something.
Especially for someone Red thought very highly of and a member of his own family who had paid such a high price.
Francis had saved the day. She threw him a grateful wave of her hand before clutching Red's waist tightly again as the bikes sped along.
After being directed to another designated parking area, they climbed off, each removing their helmets in due course.
"I hope you don't mind, but I set us up on a little private tour." Red gestured the group towards a man who waited patiently across the way beside a trolley.
"No, I don't mind at all." she smiled, then boarded the spacious vehicle, taking an empty seat, sliding over to make room for Red while Ben and Francis climbed in behind them. The rest of the bikers joined them and soon the train was full.
The guide passed Red a couple folders, one of which he handed off to her. Liz perused the material, having automatically opened the pages. It was a list of all the monuments and answers to frequently asked questions. While the leaflets were passed around, she scanned the literature, surprised by the information she found inside.
Liz had just assumed Arlington was for military members only. She hadn't realized how many different memorials actually existed. From politicians to scientists... even actors, were laid to rest here. She wondered, however, these people must have served the country in some important manner, surely. Or perhaps they were the spouse of one who did.
Red sat back in the seat, resting his arm behind her as they started rolling. Passing by one memorial after another, the trolley stopped at each, a short presentation and commemoration followed before the guide moved forward.
Visiting John F. Kennedy's grave site proved to be more powerful than she had imagined. Not only due to the fact of how he had died, but Liz hadn't known that two of his children were resting beside him. Just babies... the poor little angels.
She couldn't imagine the pain that Jacqueline Kennedy felt, losing an infant son and then a husband just a little over three months apart.
And for both grieving parents to have done so in the public spotlight...
How could they have possibly survived such an ordeal?
What strong faith they must have possessed. Her estimation of the Kennedys rose considerably.
Red came to stand beside her, staring down at the small headstone, sighing heavily. She reached out, feeling for his hand which he instinctively grasped.
"They didn't name her?" she pointed to the other small grave marker, a deep abiding sadness overtaking the woman.
"She was stillborn. But I believe they privately referred to her as Arabella."
"They could have put the name." she turned away, too emotional to deal rationally with the subject.
What was wrong with her today? She was getting so emotional, but then... maybe one should feel deeply about such things.
"They were Roman Catholic, the church would have declined to give a baptism to a dead person." Red explained. "And since most Catholics give a proper name at the time of baptism... "
"But they named Patrick?"
"He survived for two days, John had him baptized immediately." Red sighed sadly, his eyes resting quietly on the two small headstones, "All I know is that I feel extreme sympathy for anyone who has ever lost a child. That is a pain no parent should ever have to face."
Liz gripped Red's hand in hers, squeezing his fingers tightly. Red may have not lost a child in the traditional sense, certainly not the way the Kennedy's had, but that didn't make his pain any less relevant.
As they headed back to the trolley, Liz came alongside Francis asking discreetly, "Did you find it?"
"No sweat..." was the quiet response.
After once again loading back into the cart, they rolled around a corner. It was then, Liz felt the air leave her lungs, her eyes growing wide with wonder and... incredulous disbelief.
There were so many... so very many. Far too many graves.
A sea of pristine white stones, one after another as far as the eye could see, stood in all directions.
Red massaged her shoulder consolingly, sensing the impact.
Liz wrapped her arms tightly about Red's waist, clutching him closer the further they traveled the hallowed grounds in stunned silence.
The area was quite beautiful and serene. Each visitor very respectful of this sacred, dedicated, consecrated grounds. She did hear laughter a time or two, but even that was oddly subdued.
The people weren't meaning to disrespect the dead, only treasure a memory of the person they were honoring. Much like how Jack's friend had done back at the Wall. The old Vet had laughed, but there was a tinge of melancholy to the sound as if he was wishing that Jack was there to share in the laughter, rather than just be a cherished memory.
They pulled up alongside a large open auditorium all disembarking. Each person examined their surroundings as they drifted in a common direction.
"The ceremony will begin in a few minutes." the guide informed in due course.
"Thank you." Red set his hand on the small of Liz's back, ushering her around the building to a set of stairs which was rimmed with a black rail. He guided them to the center, then fell silent.
"Where are we?" she whispered reverently for the place seemed to warrant such respect.
"The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier." he motioned to a lone soldier walking the black path. "The men who guard it are called Sentinels. It is considered the highest honor to be chosen."
Liz could not take her eyes off the one solitary tomb before which the soldier trod, its' significance magnified now.
"Only a small amount of volunteers are accepted, and an even smaller amount pass the training."
"Do you have to be a specific rank?" Francis leaned to speak quietly, a question of his own coming to mind.
"No, as a matter of fact, they wear no insignia when guarding the tomb." Red continued the narrative. "The occupant's identity is known only to God, so 'Rank' is not a factor in this particular instance."
"Oh, so they're equals." Francis got it. "Doesn't matter... brothers-in-arms... eternally."
"Exactly." Red scowled at a group down the way who were talking above the whisper that Lizzy, and even Francis, had instinctively adopted, even though they had not been told to otherwise. He was proud of them both, even more so of their values and moral conduct.
But he knew, having visited here many times, he need not intervene.
The Sentinel would handle the matter just fine.
While Red didn't like why this happened, he did enjoy the flush of embarrassment that colored the faces of the guilty parties when publically called out on their disrespect.
Red directed his eyes towards Lizzy, anticipating her reaction when the soldier paused in his steps and turned to the loud people before snapping off a loud and clear rebuke.
"It is requested that everyone maintains a level of silence and respect!"
The man held his belligerent pose, staring at the offensive people until they fell completely silent, totally embarrassed when everyone stared at them with the same level of disgust and contempt, Red was feeling.
Some offenders would bow their heads and hide their faces, ashamed and rightfully so. Others left the area completely after being called on their complete lack of respect.
This group... left.
Red grinned when Lizzy, initially startled by the Sentinels reaction, scowled darkly at the offenders, eyeing them until they were out of sight before turning her attention back to the guard.
Red heard movement off to his right. He tapped Lizzy's shoulder, pointing to a Superior Officer and the Sentinel's relief coming on scene for the Changing of the Guard.
"We are to remain silent and standing throughout the ceremony." he whispered. "Lean into me if you get tired."
She fell silent as she watched the men change positions. They were so precise in their movements, she could understand why only a few elite were picked for this post. It had to take someone with great discipline, dedication and respect to show the proper dignity due to this sacred place.
She quietly shuffled in front of Red, leaning back into his chest. Red wrapped his arms low around her waist, taking more of her weight until she sighed with relief.
She was going to kill Silas when she got home. She hadn't realized just how bothersome her previous injuries could be... until Silas put her body to the test.
After the ceremony was completed and two of the men left, she craned her head, whispering again, "Is this an hourly event?"
"Today, I assume they will change the guard every thirty minutes." Red replied. "It will be expected."
"When do they stop for the night?" she was curious.
"They don't." Red looked at the fresh guard. "The Tomb is guarded twenty four hours a day, year round. Regardless of rain, snow, or heat."
She watched the Sentinel walk to the end of the path, then face East, and stand there staring at the Tomb. "What is he doing?"
"He holds position for twenty-one seconds, marches twenty one steps," she had to turn to hear the whispered words, "faces East to honor his brother, before repeating the process."
"Why twenty one?" she was ignorant on the matter, obviously, but Red loved she was taking the time to learn.
"It signifies the twenty one gun salute."
She watched the Guard, counting off in her head twenty one seconds each pass, and he was never wrong... not once.
"He's very dedicated." she was amazed at the stamina it must take, the discipline.
"Yes, very." Red smiled softly.
"What?" she obviously had missed something, if his tone was any indication.
"He knows who I am... he's recognized me."
Liz expelled a startled breath, her eyes flying to the Sentinel.
"Relax, Lizzy." it was calmed. "He realizes what he's doing is far more important than breaking his post to collect the substantial reward on my head."
Liz watched the guard turn in their direction, his attention instantly focused on Red as he held his pose, before starting back their way. She had to give it to the Sentinel, he didn't fault his steps once as he bore his eyes into the man behind her.
She looked back up at Red expectantly. The man returned the Guard's gaze steadily before he inclined his head slightly in openly expressed respect.
The young soldier was visibly taken aback, not having expected such a congenial reaction from the nations number four most wanted criminal.
"With that said, perhaps we should vacate the area," she smiled gently for the exchange, "if only to put him out of his misery."
Red nodded his acquiescence, offering a lackadaisical 'salute' to his supposed adversary before taking his leave.
Once back on their trolley, they hit a few more memorials. Monument and monument loomed large on the horizon and suddenly Liz was slightly depressed to learn there was a need to commemorate so many battles... so many wars...
Rounding a corner, the trolley slowed. Francis pushed up from his seat, bypassing a confused Red. The guide pointed out, directing Francis where to go.
"Francis?" Red asked what the man was doing.
"We should go over there." Francis pointed to an area down the path. "Just wanted to pay my respects."
"What's over there?" Red's brow furrowed. "I didn't know you had people here, Francis. Is it family?"
"Just something I want to check out, if we have time for a detour." Liz spoke up quickly.
"Of course, baby." Red consented instantly. "We have all the time in the world."
Liz leaned towards Francis as the trolley slowed to a stop down the way, "He doesn't know?" she whispered.
"In case we didn't find it," Francis explained his reasoning, "I didn't want to get his hopes up." he shrugged. "I didn't think they'd find him so quickly."
"The digital age..." she replied.
Everyone departed their seats in due course. The burly men seemed to know the place by heart, heading this direction or that, searching out the people they had come to remember.
Liz walked the grounds aimlessly, giving Francis the time he needed. She was confused by some of the lettering on the headstones, saying as much to her companion.
Red pointed out one, deciphering it for her. "BSM is Bronze Star Medal, PH is Purple Heart." she was suitably informed.
She enquired of another headstone impression.
"DSC is Distinguished Service Cross," Red replied quietly, his eyes lingering on the whitewashed stone for a long moment before moving on to the next. "Silver Star." he pointed to the SS on the marker.
"OLC?" the woman muttered aloud.
"Oak Leaf Clusters." the decipher was forthcoming.
She nodded sedately. "Okay..." her fingers traced a star on the warmed stone.
"This soldier was Jewish." Red watched her actions. "The Star of David."
She looked from one cross to the next and still, the next one over, "Why do they have so many symbols?"
"Well, he was Presbyterian," Red pointed out the first grave, " but the one next to him," he gestured accordingly, "this man was Episcopalian. I think next one over, was Lutheran." he lifted a hand.
"How do you know all this stuff?"
"When you attended enough funerals here, you start to pick it up." his tone held a heaviness not there before. The man stood, his gaze taking in the scope of the spiritual idols again. He hoped, whatever faith, they had found peace with it.
They finally caught up with Ben and Francis to find them standing and looking down at one in particular.
Ben gestured from across the way. Red guided the woman carefully between the well kept graves.
Francis' intent gaze told the woman, as she neared... they had found the person she had asked they locate.
Liz neared, approaching tentatively, not certain what to feel or if she would feel anything at all. She had not known the man personally, after all.
JACKSON
RAYMOND
REDDINGTON
SGT
US ARMY
VIETNAM
JUN 20 1947
JUL 5 1972
BRONZE STAR
PURPLE HEART
She inhaled sharply having rounded the stone, her hands curling into tightly balled fists.
Seeing that name printed on white granite, bothered her greatly. She closed her eyes and turned away from the sight. Crossing her arms tightly under her breasts, she fought the conflicting emotions besieging her mind .
She had not been prepared for such a powerful reaction... not at all.
"Lizzy?" Red scowled, sensing something amiss. Her paled features alerting him of the fact. "What's wrong?" he glanced down, suddenly speechless himself.
Liz examined the expressionless features with a critical eye. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, after all.
"You were named after him?" she asked a generic question, floundering a little herself, truth told.
"Each generation carries the name. It is tradition." Red muttered, tracing the etching, slowly, carefully. "Though, in my case, I really wished they had stopped." he reached out, setting his hand on the warmed stone, rubbing it. "I thought he was laid to rest... I didn't think he was here."
"You never looked?" Francis surmised. "I took a shot. I hope... it's okay, Red?" the young man was anxious. "Did we do right?"
Red gave the younger man a vague nod of recognition as he knelt and looked at the carving, his eyes silently tracing the letters and numbers. "I never knew he was awarded the Bronze Star."
Red shut his eyes, placing his hand over the name then felt a smaller hand lay over his and rub his fingers gently.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Red." Liz leaned into his shoulder, murmuring quietly, her words heartfelt and sincere.
Red smiled gently. "You're the first person to say that to me." he curled his fingers, tightening them into a fist but the action was prevented by the slender fingers intertwining with his thicker ones.
"They thought I was too young, didn't understand what happened." he had long ago come to terms with the fact. "Maybe they wanted me to hang on to my innocence." he shrugged. "They came here for the funeral," he looked around at the trees, then back at her, "and left me home with a neighbor."
"But you did understand?" the woman half way questioned.
"Yes, I knew."
"You were just a little boy." her heart hurt for that little boy.
"With a war vet for a neighbor."
"He told you?" she was shocked.
Red nodded absently, "In great detail."
"Why would he do such a thing?" Liz was incensed for that little boy Red had been.
"I don't think he meant to hurt me, Lizzy." Red soothed, finally realizing the tale unsettled her. "I think he just answered my questions, like he always did." he remembered that old grizzled face fondly. "Actually, it was through talking to him, that I was finally able to mourn Jack."
Red lowered to the freshly mowed grass, stretching his legs in front of him, leaning back into his arms. Liz glanced about for a spot as well, wondering where she should sit when Red moved his legs apart, waving her closer. She moved into the open space, leaning back into his solid frame.
Leaving Francis and Ben to sit opposite sides of the marker.
"I wish I knew what he looked like." she stated wistfully.
Removing his wallet from his pocket, Red rifled through its contents until he pulled a small picture out, handing it over.
She stared at the black and white photo, her smile a gentle one. "Look at that baby face."
Liz perused the fresh faced kid in his crisp uniform in a standard pose for that time. He looked proud and erect, but also young as hell. Completely unaware of what he would be facing in his short life.
Liz traced the man's features, seeing a lot of Red in them. They both shared the same eyes, nose, cheek bones and lips.
"He was quite handsome, wasn't he?" she voiced her thoughts.
"He thought so." Red chuckled. "When he came home after boot camp, he thought he was a ladies magnet."
"Was he?" Liz's brows rose.
Red sing-songed his head, grinning, "Yes."
He craned his head, looking over her shoulder at the picture, memories surfacing. "When I was old enough, and he was home, he'd load me up in the car and hit the hang outs. While I played games, he was trolling chicks." he sniggered at Lizzy's soft huff. "Seemed like every time I looked up, a new girl was on his arm."
"He let you tag along?" she asked, handing the photo over to Ben.
"Yes. His mother thought since I was there, he wouldn't get into trouble."
"Did he ever..." Liz wondered because, after all... things happened between a man and a woman, especially when so young and it was a reckless time anyway... the sixties and seventies.
"Not to my knowledge." Red had half expected some woman... okay, several, to show up with such a claim against Jack. "I'm sure if there were, they'd stay away now since the Reddington name is tarnished."
Liz screwed up her face, annoyed beyond belief but not really knowing why. She stayed silent otherwise.
Red pulled out another photo, "He sent this during his first tour."
The clean cut face had been replaced by dirt, sweat, a scruffy shadow on the still handsome features. His crisp uniform had been replaced by filthy fatigues which now hung open revealing a masculine chest rippled with muscles.
There appeared to be a leech sticking to his well-toned arm, which made sense, since the man was standing in a knee deep swamp.
In just the short time Jack had been there, he had lost some of his baby fat and gained a tiredness in his eyes. His helmet rode low on his forehead, blocking what appeared to be a blazing sun though not very well, seeing the man was squinting harshly as a cigarette hung from his smirking mouth.
But that wasn't what grabbed Liz the most, it was how he went from looking like some young optimistic upstart, to a seasoned man in less than a month. For each picture had been hand dated on the back.
The things that kid must have seen had to have been horrific to change him so visibly. The things he would have had to do... must have done.
War makes you grow up fast. That's what they said. Liz was seeing proof of that statement.
"He did two tours?" Ben asked, his tone a reverent one.
"Yes, well really, three." Red acknowledged. "He came back after his first tour, took a short R&R and went directly back." he explained. "He took a longer break after the second, then re-upped." he fell quiet for a long beat. "The family was not pleased."
Some would say that Jack hated how he was received back home, the things people called him. Or that he couldn't acclimate. But Red thought, it was because of the media coverage at the time. The war was so publicized.
They would do a segment that Jack would catch on the evening news. He would see a buddy or know that particular region they were discussing and he'd go silent then head out on to the porch for a smoke.
Red hadn't understood it until he had been labeled a traitor, the turmoil Jack must have felt. But when he did, Red understood better why Jack had welcomed his company with open arms.
He remembered his father arguing with his Uncle continuously. While his mother was always pushing some new girl on Jack.
And his grandmother, who was thrilled to have her boy home alive and safe, fussed over the man to the point of smothering. Red, even in his child like innocence, kind of understood why Jack wanted to escape to the boardwalk everyday, even if it meant having a kid tag along.
While the adults wanted him to talk about it, or, "Just let it go... move on boy, it's over..."
How many times had those words echoed in Red's head. Had he been older, he could have told them all to shut the hell up, that they couldn't possibly know or understand any of what Jack was going through.
Red had wanted to discuss a new comic book or movie. He hadn't expected anything from Jack, except to shoot the shit.
It was no wonder soldiers were so great with kids. Their innocence, their light conversation, was a relief in comparison to what the adults expected of them.
"Why do they go back?" Liz always wondered. She could not fathom a reason.
"Guilt, anger." Red shrugged, having felt many of the same emotions for different reasons in his own life. "He couldn't sit at a desk while his buddies were dying."
"I bet his "welcome home" was another reason." Francis scowled, having heard the stories, of course. He was ashamed of that generations lack of support for men and women who were fighting an impossible war so that the creeps 'had the freedom' to kick dirt in a soldiers face when he came back from hell.
"I would imagine." Red nodded.
"Your family wasn't happy he was home? "Liz questioned, recalling Red's previous words.
"No, they were happy. It was everybody else that put a damper on his homecoming." Red remembered she hadn't lived through that era. "Sweetheart, returning soldiers were labeled a baby killer the minute they stepped back on American soil."
Liz grimaced, recalling something about that in an old war documentary Sam used to watch continuously. She was so used to welcoming soldiers home, thanking them for their service, now. She had forgotten that Vietnam soldiers were spit on and called terrible things.
She wasn't naïve enough to think that some of them probably earned the label placed upon them, but the majority of the soldiers were just doing their duty. They did their tour to the best of their ability, survived and came home... to what?
"I can't imagine he was happy to have gone back?" Liz looked at the photo. When did it become common place to stand casually in a mosquito infested swamp with a leech neglected on one's arm, she wondered. But the man in the picture seemed totally resigned... he "fit" now.
"He felt it was where he was supposed to be... his duty." Red could relate to such thing.
"Do you have more pictures?" she suddenly needed to know more about Jack Reddington.
"Only this one." Red gave over another picture, though this one was in color. "This was a month before he died, though we didn't get it until two weeks after." he tapped the man sitting next to Jack in the photo. "The FNG sent it."
"FNG?" Liz frowned her confusion.
"Fucking New Guy." Red smiled, almost impishly, readily relieving her state.
"Red!" she admonished, chiding the man's responding chuckle. "He was kind enough to send this and that's what you call him?"
"Well, that's how he signed the letter, FNG Johnson." Red shrugged any concern aside. "Apparently, the title was how Jack referred to the kid... PFC Johnson explained it all in the letter. After six months in company, a newbie 'graduates' to Vet status, at least in Jack's eyes." the light eyes twinkled with mirth. "The kid wanted to honor the 'code', that's all."
Elizabeth shook her head, sighing, "You men and your 'codes'!"
She refocused on the photograph. Her finger tracing the outline of Jack's image.
All traces of the boy that had gone over there were erased. Which was made apparent since the newbie, who had very much looked like Jack did at the beginning of his tour, sat next to him. What a contrast.
The young, wet behind the ears, 'new guy' next to the hardened, now... seasoned war veteran and really, only years separated them in age.
Jack made Johnson look like he had just come off the field after scoring the winning touchdown in the high school football game.
Jack had bulked up considerably by this point, his body honed to perfection, probably from carrying what looked to be a hundred pound sack on his back. The sinewy muscles in his arm and neck were taut under his tanned skin.
Though his uniform appeared to be drenched, his face was beaded and running with sweat. The pronounced vein in his temple spoke of a painful headache or overwhelming tension.
But his face... she could see so much of Red in his stern expression. Jack's jaw was tense, his mouth pinched under the shadowing and dirt on his face, and his eyes... they looked haunted. The man was exhausted, spent.
Jack sat, leaning his head into his filthy hand, the other held a radio, his fingers gripping the dark plastic in open frustration. There was a certain resignation to the set of those broad shoulders... as if he knew, sooner or later, the jungle which surrounded them would eventually be the death of him, which so far... he had managed to escape.
The new kid looked gun ho, fresh and eager. Maybe a little scared, but the determination to beat the enemy was alive in his eyes.
While Jack knew the harsh reality of a never ending war... a never ending day.
"He was only twenty-five?" the woman scowled darkly, perhaps she had miscalculated while computing the math on the headstone. The man in the photo seemed closer to thirty-five.
"Death and destruction ages a man." Ben philosophized. "As does an enemy army out to kill you, I should imagine."
"He was still handsome though." Liz smiled fondly, her fingers still tracing the man's image, as if in doing so, she could connect with him somehow.
"And don't think he wouldn't have told you as much." Red's mouth turned up in wry amusement. "One of his last letters said, that while it was true, he had jungle rot, he was still damn fine looking." he snickered under his breath. "Forget the fact he smelled like hell, he still thought he was a catch."
"So he and his nephew have that in common." Francis chuckled as he took the newest picture Liz passed him.
Red looked affronted, "Is my cologne that bad?" he sniffed at his arm. "I've been thinking of a change." he admitted playfully.
Liz giggled and leaned in, "Don't you dare!" she whispered just for the man's ears.
He smelled so good.
Francis and Ben nudged each other, catching the spirit which had settled over them.
It was as if Jack himself was present saying, 'Lighten the hell up, people.'
"Does he pass inspection?" Ben asked, amused at her attempt at privacy under such circumstances.
"He most certainly does." Liz leaned back into Red, resigned to her fate. "Which is more than I can say for you two..."
Both men automatically sniffed at each others scents.
"But Old Spice assured me that had my grandfather not worn it, I wouldn't exist." Ben seemed genuinely perplexed.
"Well, English Leather assures me that women want me to wear this or nothing at all," Francis nodded sagely, "and since you people frown upon me displaying my magnificent body for public viewing..."
"You and Jack would have gotten along just fine." Red was relatively sure.
"You know, you look an awful lot like him." Francis was struck by the resemblance as Ben took the photo. "So, Liz, who would have won the battle? You seem to think Jack is pretty hot."
"You're a pain in the ass, Francis... have I told you lately?"
"So Jack would have won." Ben surmised.
"I'd like to see him try." Red muttered darkly, before accepting the woman's tender kiss.
The other men were instantly satisfied with themselves, having managed to get Red's goat, as it were.
Red checked the sun's position in the sky, then looked down at his watch. "Damn."
"Something wrong?" Liz asked solicitously, sudden concern on her pretty face.
"No, I just remembered I promised Danny I'd get him something from the vendors after the rally and I forgot." He stood up extending a helping hand for Liz to arise from her seated position by the gravestone. "I think we still have time to..."
"Oh, wait." Francis held his hand up, stilling the words. He unzipped his jacket, handing over the flowers to Red.
Red seemed moved by such a gesture. He nodded his head in deference to the action then for the second time that day, Red arranged the flowers with Lizzy's help. The man's eyes closed as he leaned, settling an arm on the top of the white stone for counter balance.
He grew stoically silent for a long moment, his eyes focusing on Jack's name. He struggled for something profound to say, which for Red Reddington, wasn't usually a difficult task but today, the words failed the man.
"You were a great guy, an amazing Uncle," Red swallowed hard at the lump rising in his throat, "and I miss you... so very much."
Liz's eyes misted as she pressed her lips together tightly to halt the need to weep at such an emotional exchange.
Red shifted his stance, his eyes still on the boldly inscribed name. "But... you're not ever going to get my girl."
Liz chuckled brokenly, the moment lightened somewhat. "Don't I get a say?" she quipped.
"No." Red put an end to the issue. He stood a moment, before lightly tapping the headstone, pointing that they could now take their leave.
Liz glanced back, impulsively touching the stone herself, almost caressing it. "Thank you." she whispered.
Thank you for your service. Thank you letting a kid tag along with you, thank you for being so kind to Red, thank you for loving him.
Red cocked his head, wondering over the private interchange. He watched her contentedly as she rejoined him in the present.
She lay her head upon his shoulder as they walked slowly away. This new open affection she was bestowing on him felt wonderful. He pondered it's origins but was too wise to question his good fate closely.
There was something different about their connection however and it was a... 'good' something although it could not be defined as yet.
Oh, they were affectionate while in a group. She was warming to the expected displays their 'act' called upon to preform. Sharing a kiss, holding hands, even embracing was becoming a natural part of the woman's everyday habits.
He respected her and was more than aware of decorum when with their acquaintances. Red would never trespass on such an obligation.
But today, Lizzy seemed to be within his sphere, not for any other reason but that she just seemed to want to be there.
In other instances, in the past... she had always been upset or scared.
While she did seem emotional today, she didn't seem sad. Contemplative, maybe. But nothing to warrant actually needing his affection or attention.
But then... perhaps she thought he would need hers?
She liked a shoulder to lean on when she had visited Sam's grave. Did she think that he would appreciate the same?
Because he did. He appreciated her presence more than she realized.
Jack may have been gone a long time, but this was the first time Red had been able to say good-bye, properly. It meant a great deal to the man to have someone as kind and understanding as Elizabeth by his side this day.
They matched steps as they walked down the hill to the cart, and by the fourth row of headstones they passed, she had looped her fingers casually through his belt loop while she chatted with Ben. And by the time they got to the cart itself. She was trailing along, fingers still holding firm, blindly, yet trustingly allowing the man to lead her safely to their destination.
He almost wished the cart had been further away, because he was really enjoying such closeness.
He wasn't afraid to admit, he enjoyed the touch of a woman. Even if it was as innocent as this.
Maybe because he had never really experienced such things. His ex-wife, in the early days, would cuddle up to him, but into their first year of marriage, such displays had tapered off. Aside from a peck as he was leaving for the day, sex was the only time she ever really touched him... how had he not noticed that until years later?
He suddenly became acutely aware that with all the women in his life, sex was the only time he had been touched. But there was always something lacking... something missing from the equation. Not that he didn't enjoy the sex itself, who wouldn't?
What he had been looking for was... this.
He was never going to turn sex down, especially now that he had Elizabeth. That was a given.
But having a deeper emotional connection, on a daily basis, was just as much a need as the carnal delights a woman could offer.
"Earth to Red?" Lizzy snapped her fingers in front of his face.
The man jolted to reality from his musings.
"Where were you?"
"Just thinking." he shook off the question.
"Are you ready to go?" Liz pointed to the waiting guide.
Red nodded and helped her inside then slid in beside her, "To the bikes, please."
They got on the road a few minutes later, heading for the rally's Vendor Row.
She had been silent since their return to the bikes. As they headed back over the bridge, she sighed, "Why didn't you ride in the rally? You're a Vet."
"To be honest, I'm not sure what I'm considered, Elizabeth." he replied all too quietly.
"Technically, you are." she debated.
"No, I'm relatively certain the act of treason laid against me has stripped me of my Veteran status."
Not wanting to start an argument over a dead issue, Liz turned the conversation to her original point. "I guess what I meant was, you should have ridden in honor of your Uncle."
"To ride for him would have been a slap in the face." he stated flatly, maneuvering the bike artfully through traffic. "I managed to do the exact opposite of Jack. He honored the Reddington name... I tarnished it."
"There were extenuating circumstances."
He didn't have to see her face to know she was pouting.
"Lizzy, you and the boys helped me honor Jack today in a way that was very meaningful, I think, to both of us." he pointed out the positive. "Jack would have liked how we've spent the day."
Liz sighed, resting her chin on his shoulder, "You think so?"
"I do." he concluded. "We celebrated the living, remembered the MIA's and POW's." he lifted an expressive hand but the bike didn't wobble one bit. "We visited the Wall and found a buddy of Jack's who spoke very highly of him... that was very special to me."
He turned his head slightly, moving over a lane.
"We paid our respect to the Unknown Soldier." she had enjoyed that tremendously. "And we found Jack's resting place... then spent and hour talking about how wonderful and handsome he was."
He grinned when he felt her laugh against his back. "He would have appreciated that we took the time, Lizzy." he patted the leg nestled against his comfortingly.
Pleased that Red seemed content in how they had honored his Uncle, Liz watched the scenery go by, listening to his soft breathing in her ear. She had missed that sound.
"You are staying with me..." she questioned, "while you're here, right?"
Red smiled at the hesitancy in her voice. He had been hoping that she would extend an invitation to stay with her.
Or he had hoped she would accept his invitation to stay with him...
"I would love to spend the weekend with you." he replied. "Would you like to stay at the safe house or..."
She pondered the question a moment, "We better stay at my place." she decided. "Nora and Silas–"
"Yes, you're right." he agreed. He had forgotten that they were expected.
"So you're here..." she paused, "just for the weekend?"
"Well, I had no definite plans, except to spend this holiday with you." he said. "I only meant, if your team should call after the fact or..."
"Right, yes." she nodded. "I understand."
She smiled happily, knowing for the next three days, Red was hers. If no calls should come in from her team or his associates, he would of course stay longer, if she wished it.
It was a heady feeling, having Red Reddington at one's beck and call.
She tightened her arms about the man, hugging him. He rubbed her exposed hand slowly, just as happy with their confirmed time together, steering the bike in behind Francis and Ben.
After setting down their gear, they walked into the Vendor section, casually strolling the area.
"What did Danny want exactly?" Ben asked, seeing all sorts of goodies, he himself, was dying to search out.
"Oh, some leather goods. I forgot the damn name, but he said it had a Marine..." Red looked searchingly about the numerous stalls, suddenly brightening, pointing to makeshift shop. "That's it. I'm sure of it."
They purchased the goods, continuing their aimless wandering, looking at the other products available.
Francis and Ben bought some leather items, new wallets, several new belts. Red bought Liz some pretty little bracelets that had caught her eye.
"You don't have to do that." she complained, all the while allowing him to place the items on her slender wrists. She was enchanted by the craftsmanship and beauty.
"You didn't bring your wallet." he lifted a teasing stare. As if he wouldn't have bought them for her anyway. "How convenient, eh?"
"You can afford it." she waved the issue aside playfully. "Plus lunch, I'm suddenly famished." she exclaimed half-way through their shopping expedition.
They sat down in the shade of a large tree, watching the people milling by.
"You can't expect me to finish all of this, right?" Liz waved an enormous turkey leg in the air.
"You do realize that you've finished half of it and you're still eating, yes?" Red turned his own treat around, tearing into the soft flesh vigorously before sipping his lemonade.
"What am I, chopped liver?" Francis was annoyed. "It's a rule, I take care of any leftovers." he piped up. "We've discussed this."
"Yes, I remember now." Liz rolled her eyes. "You've been breathing down my neck for the last five minutes, lying in wait, like the vulture you are."
She took one last bite and held the meat over her shoulder for the man, startling slightly with how fast it vanished from her hand.
Red shook his head as he watched the pair, then stood wiping his hands on a paper napkin, "Knock yourself out." he handed over his own turkey leg, which was greedily taken from his fingers.
"I'm amazed at that boy's capacity for food." He seemed genuinely so as he watched Francis make small order of the object.
Liz chuckled seeing Red's expression, arising as well while she brushed crumbs off her jeans.
She took a step back, only to collide with a passerby. She turned apologetically, "Oh, I'm sorr–"
She halted mid-statement, her eyes widening with shocked surprise. "Res–" she covered her glaring mistake hastily, "Donald!"
Ressler was better at such things, a plastered smile coming to the fore instantly. He took in the scene with experienced eyes, covering the awkwardness with a professional air Liz suddenly envied.
"Liz..." he nodded his greeting, "good to bump into you like this." he brought his companion forward with a gentlemanly hand. "This is, Dana. Don't judge her too harshly please. She's fresh out of law school," it was emphasized as a cautionary nod to Raymond Reddington who stood unobtrusively off to Liz's side, "and delights in flaunting her new found knowledge of criminal behavior."
"Oh, Donald." the woman laughed. She was a petite little thing with dark hair and eyes that seemed to take in the world in one fell swoop. "He's always teasing me."
"She's spotted six of the 'most wanted' just at this rally alone." Donald sent a look Red's way.
"Well, they could have been, you don't really know." the slight Texas accent was rather charming if Liz hadn't been so on edge. "You look familiar too, sir. Have we met?"
"I have one of those faces." Red stepped, offering a hand. "Although, I do actually spend a lot of time in Texas."
"What are ya'll doing in this God forsaken part of the country then?" she quipped, laughing gaily at her own joke.
"I imagine we're all here as one today," Red glanced about aimlessly, "for the same reason."
The woman quietened demurely.
"Dana's Uncle rode in the rally." Ressler intoned, casting another oblique look to the two men beside Red.
"It's nice to meet you." Liz recovered quickly. "And forgive my manners, Francis... Ben." she included the others into the introductions. "This is my... eh, friend, Donald."
Red smiled pleasantly at nothing in particular.
"They surprised me with today's events." she beamed, squeezing Red's hand overly stressed by the unexpected turn of 'events'. "And they brought a better surprise," she lifted soft eyes to Red's countenance, "they brought Ray home.'
"You were traveling?" Dana asked politely as a minute of subdued silence fell. "To Texas, I hope? I've been gone only a short while but I do miss home already."
"Alas, no." Red grinned charmingly. "Not the Great State, but yes, traveling... for work." he nodded once, his eyes confident on the pixie like face. "I finished earlier than expected, and I too, am glad to be home." he squeezed Liz's hand, raising her soft skin to his lips.
"That is so sweet." Dana practically gushed, smiling at the couple. "Surprising her like that."
Ressler frowned slightly at such a warm display from Liz and Reddington, but dropped the façade quickly, not wishing to blow his partners role in Reddington's masquerade.
"So how do you two know each other?" Dana asked of Liz and Donald.
Liz side-glanced Red, feeling the slight edge of panic start to creep in.
"We used to work together." Ressler filled the space, smoothly. "A few years back."
"Oh!" the woman smiled brightly over to a hesitant Elizabeth Keen. "You worked for the F–"
Red dropped his lemonade, the cup exploding on the ground on impact.
"Shit..." the man cursed, quickly wiping at his and Liz's pants legs. Dana had gasped, rushing to a nearby food truck, grabbing a wad of napkins before hurrying back to the pair. Ressler, who received a good splash himself, dabbed at his shirt front with a fixed scowl.
"Oh my, what a mess." Dana was dismayed, handing over the remaining napkins.
"Thank you..." Red sighed heavily. "This damn jet lag..." he explained such a lapse, "it hits at the most inopportune times."
"I know what you mean." Dana shook her head woefully. "Don't you hate it? And the TSA."
"He does actually." Francis stated.
"It's why he has his own jet." Ben smiled happily at nothing in particular.
"I'm sticky..." Liz grimaced, holding her hands out as proof, as she searched about the grounds surrounding them. "Is there a bathroom or..."
"There's a water station," Dana pointed the needed direction, "just on the other side of that blue trailer there. You own your own jet you say? My, I'm impressed."
"He gets that a lot." Francis nodded sagely.
"I'm just going to..." Liz gestured, desperately wishing to flee the awkwardness, "it was good to see you Donald, and nice to meet you, Dana." she inclined her head to both before stepping off with Red by her side.
"Yeah," Ressler adopted another smile, "have a good holiday." he offered as he directed Dana in the opposite direction... as quickly as humanly possible.
"Those are such nice people, Donald." Dana was heard to say in passing.
Liz and Red walked quietly towards the water station, intent on keeping the story alive and flourishing. Red reached out, grabbing more napkins from a vendor as they passed, adding to the effect.
"Who was Dudley Do-Right?" Francis gestured back to the couple who was rapidly vanishing into the crowded venue.
"I–" Liz stumbled slightly over a wide strip of electric cord, giving her a few seconds to think of a logical explanation.
"It was Donald..." Red grumbled, his stern expression holding Francis' quizzical one.
Francis frowned slightly at the man's angered features before his eyes widened with recognition.
That was the Donald, Liz fuc–
Fuck...
"What the hell is it with you two and awkward situations?" Francis threw his hands out at his side.
"Upset you didn't get to record it?" Red asked pleasantly before leading Lizzy to a nearby tent filled with shiny things sure to distract Francis. He was neither surprised nor disappointed when the ploy worked.
They continued on with their shopping, until Red noticed the woman was once again favoring her leg. "Your leg hurts."
"I'm okay." she was quick to deny the accusation.
"No, we're going." he gestured to Francis that he was taking her to the bikes.
"Red, I'm really okay." she protested. "We can keep looking... this is fun."
"You're limping." he motioned. "You don't want to strain your leg anymore than we already have. We're going."
They looped back around slowly, walking through the soft grass, amid those milling about.
"I'm sorry..." Liz was, "but remember, it's Silas'–"
"Fault, yeah I know." The man completed the statement, his gentle eyes on the woman.
"Damn leg!" she grumbled her irritation. "You guys don't have to leave, I'll just sit here." she pointed to a bench, hope gleaming on the pretty face. "I don't want to be a downer."
"Lizzy, it's okay. I did what I came here to do." he had accomplished so much to his way of thinking. The day had brought them closer. "We can go home."
One of the large biker guys came up to Red, breaking the stalemate, mumbling in his ear. Red frowned, his expression altering visibly. The man sighed heavily.
"Tell him I'll be right there." The burly biker took his leave.
"What's wrong?" she sensed something amiss.
"An old shipmate of mine is here and saw me." Red motioned in the needed direction. "He'd like a minute."
"Okay, well like I said. I'll just sit here and when you're done..." she smiled, then sat on the shaded bench.
"If you wouldn't mind?" Red glanced around finding what he sought, Francis and Ben were only a stall away but... the man curtly crooked his hand and two rather menacing men appeared out of nowhere.
"Yes. Now, go. I'm fine." she raised her foot to the bench, sighing in relief, her eyes watching the mammoth individuals approach. And she had thought bikers were large men.
"Stay with her." he muttered to the new arrivals. They stood on opposite ends of the bench, smiling and passing out hellos to buddies as they walked by, seemingly cordial, passive beings. She would not have wanted to cross either, personally.
She tracked Red as he walked across the greens to a man who was smiling as Red got closer. She could not see Red's expression, but he seemed to hesitate when the man stuck out his hand in greeting. Seconds passed before Red finally lifted his hand to make the expected contact.
Was his hesitation due to his dislike of the man? It was obvious, no love was lost on Red's part. Perhaps Red just assumed that everyone he had worked with believed him to be a traitor and wouldn't give him the time of day. Not that she thought Red would care either way. But this guy must give pause for thought, surely.
She would enquire on the matter later, of course. Red probably wouldn't answer, but he had surprised her a few times.
She relaxed back into the curved bench, breathing in the warm air. It wasn't so bad here in the shade. The wind was coming through pretty well down the path, even with the crush of bodies, so she was cool, for the most part.
It had been an eventful day. Thought provoking, to say the least. Remembering what Memorial Day was really all about.
And more importantly, Red had shared a little of himself with her.
She was surprised that even with his sullied military past, the man seemed to hold high esteem for his one time comrades.
She would have thought he would shun those who had shunned him.
Liz reflected on moments throughout the day. Red had seemed... different somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it.
The way he stood just as erect during the rally as that Marine had and how he had been so very respectful when visiting Arlington. His aggravation with those who had disrespected the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier... had been admirable.
More to her surprise, she had gathered by the information he had so easily imparted, that he visited the grounds frequently. She wondered what drew him back so consistently.
Was he missing being a part of the military, regardless of what he said. Or was it an ingrained respect he had carried over from his childhood, for the Uncle he had admired so much.
She felt her heart warm at the thought that Red had shared something so very personal to him... with her. Something that wasn't in his file.
She knew so little about his family, but today, he had let her inside his world a little bit more. And because of it, she felt closer to the man than ever before.
It had been a good day, full of wonderful surprises.
"Liz..."
The woman started at the recognized voice.
This was one surprise she could do with out.
"...Tom." she muttered dejectedly.