AUTHOR NOTE: Silas is in a grumpy mood. Just warning you. :)
June 4
Elizabeth had hated to leave the inviting place of warmth and security this morning.
Red's arms were a sanctuary she could spend countless hours within, given the choice.
She studied her reflection in the three-way mirror her dressing area provided. Did her face look puffy? No more late nights for her, she determined. That time she was roofied in college was nothing compared to last nights fiasco.
Red's supply was of a higher quality than the college fare. Which accounted for the obvious distinction.
She had chosen a simple, tailored black dress suit for the funeral.
She hoped the service wouldn't drag on.
Maybe that was a terrible thing to wish. When her time came, she was determined to go with as little fanfare as possible.
Morbid thought that.
Liz shook the mood, going off in search of her contemporaries... and Red Reddington of course.
Red poured his drink, watching the amber liquid swirl about the expensive tumbler.
He left Lizzy to her shower, going to his office early today.
He rarely imbibed so early but he needed a quick bracer this particular morning.
He hated funerals but there was no getting out of this one.
When it was his turn, he hoped no one took any real note until a couple days passed.
The ritual involved with death was for the living. The need to say goodbye... one last moment to connect... to hold firm to what once had been, he supposed.
Humans needed ritual. It gave comfort of sorts no matter how truly useless it was.
He made a few calls, tied up a few loose ends that had been dangling for the past week or so in the business arena.
Nothing really large loomed on the horizon this day, thankfully.
Still, he would prefer to spend it with Lizzy, out on the lake perhaps. Sailing always gave him a new perspective on life.
He heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside his office. Familiar footfalls indeed.
Dembe rounded the corner, coming into view.
The man sported a dark suit, a dapper yet subdued tie, you could see yourself in the shine of his leather shoes.
Red lifted impressed brows, "You look..." he swept the large bulky frame with approval, "very elegant, Dembe."
"I hate these things."
Red held up a tinkling glass, "Helps me get by... want one?"
"It is ten o'clock in the morning." Dembe pointed out.
Red took solace in the pungent scent of his whiskey, "It certainly is." his brow rose higher, "Your point?"
"Elizabeth will think it disrespectful."
"No disrespect meant." Red stated sincerely, "Just a simple coping mechanism," he sobered for his tone had been a little light-hearted, "helps keep the guilt down to a manageable level."
"You can not take on the guilt of the world." Dembe scowled, "In our line of work, there will be losses."
"He was too young," Red stared out the window into the grey haze of a stormy day, "the young should stay... live out their time here as it was meant to be."
"Kevin chose his–"
"He didn't choose to die!" Red snapped then... closed his eyes, regretting his tone, "...Sorry." he managed bleakly.
Dembe recognized the outburst for what it was, "The burden you carry is a heavy one, my friend," he sighed heavily, "but you are correct... the young were meant for something better."
"Are we so ancient, Dembe?" Red wondered. "It feels so today, I must say."
"I prefer seasoned." Dembe corrected, sorting through the stack of correspondence on Red's desk, "...I thought everyone emailed or texted these days."
"They tried, but I forgot to check the damned thing," Red shrugged mentally, "They went back to the old-fashioned methods... the hard to trace methods."
"Or they phone you." Dembe stated wryly.
Red glanced at the dreaded thing, "They do that."
"How is Elizabeth fairing today?" Dembe enquired graciously.
"We discussed the matter," Red took a few of the envelopes handed him, glancing through the selection Dembe had deemed important, "she is of a mind to 'keep and open mind' but I'll be damned if I ever bring that shit around her again." Red frowned over a bill he perused, "What is this for? Two thousand and sixty-two dollars?"
"The bar tab for Kevin's wake."
Red's mouth fell open, then he shut it resoundingly, "Pay it."
"Of course," Dembe took the papers back, "we have received no new letters of late."
"No," Red confided, "which is good news, I suppose."
"If he is not writing letters," Dembe questioned, "what is he doing?"
The thought was unsettling. Red took another bit of his drink, "Speaking of parasites, is he out there?"
"He will not be an issue, Raymond." Dembe assured. "Tom will not disrupt the proceedings or approach Elizabeth this day. You have my word."
Red was satisfied, "A display would not be appropriate."
"I will be discrete."
"I know you will." Red hefted the last of his liquor in mock 'salute'. "When have you not? I only stated my thoughts."
"The men are outside... on the front drive," Dembe continued, "The vehicles are ready for departure. The neighboring guards kindly offered their services in our absence."
Most had been referred by Silas for the man liked competent allies about him at any given time so Red felt comfortable leaving them in charge for a few hours.
"They have been briefed about Carver?"
"In a round-about manner," Dembe knew Silas' established routine, "but a thorough sweep will be made before Elizabeth's return... by our present security team. You know that."
"I'm just feeling antsy today," Red sighed the feelings aside, "...What about Nora?" their newest guest came to mind.
"She wished to attend. Silas will drive her himself."
"I hate," Red's lips tightened, "that this is even taking place." he iterated his growing frustration and anger, "Kevin is..." he caught the slip, some of the anger replaced by a useless sadness and worse still, accepted resignation, "was... a good man."
Dembe remained silent in deference to the fact.
"Silas and I... and you..." Red motioned, "we strategize, we plan, we work up all the solutions, think we have every contingency planned and still–"
"An unfocused man is a vulnerable man."
"Meaning me." Red faced the fact grimly.
"Meaning, Kevin." Dembe corrected. "He was on duty, his mind elsewhere. A lethal combination in our profession, yes."
Red mulled over the words, then nodded slowly.
"Unforeseen circumstances befall us all." Dembe had realized years and years ago, "...Now it is time for us to pick up the pieces, to honor our contemporaries as best we can, in whichever way conceivable... and move forward."
"I know all you say is true," Red did, "but it doesn't take away from the fact... I am responsible yet again for another person's demise."
Liz had hesitated outside the door, having followed the men's voices to her present position. Her heart ached for Red Reddington.
She entered, her eyes full of concern and empathy.
"Red..." she approached hesitantly, really not knowing what to say. She could never be as erudite as Dembe, "If Kevin were here, right now... what do you think he would say?" she hastened to add, "Knowing he couldn't stay, that he had to leave his family behind? What would you want to say?" she hated the scenario, but it had to be faced by everyone in this room, eventually.
Red lifted his head, taking in the lovely sight of her almost ethereal beauty. Dressed so solemnly, her complexion so fragile against the black clothing. She looked like an angel descended from heaven.
Perhaps, at this moment, that is exactly what she was... reminding him of the frailty of life itself.
"I would say..." the man pondered his words seriously, his brow furrowing deeply. His eyes transferred to Dembe, "take care of my own..." a silent communication passed between the men.
Keep her from harm.
Elizabeth's eyes softened on the man who returned his attention.
"If she is alright," he reached for her cooler fingers, his expression unreadable, "I am alright, no matter where I end up." he smiled slightly to lessen the barb for he knew his final destination.
"You could rest... knowing that," she fought the lump in her throat, "couldn't you."
He nodded slowly his eyes warming considerably.
"Then why would you think Kevin is any different?" she asked. "I have to live with the fact, Kevin died because of me..." she held up a hasty hand when both men would disagree.
"I can't change that fact and neither can you. What I can do," she turned slightly, her thoughts turning introspective, "is watch out for his sister. Make sure her life is what he would want it to be."
She turned back forcing a smile, "I can be her friend which is exactly what I intend to be."
Red's heart swelled.
She straightened her posture, lifting her head.
"Be my friend..." Silas poked his head in the opened doorway, the rest of his bulky frame following as an afterthought as he sauntered forward. "You people move your respective asses and let's get this show on the road." he checked his watch to illustrate the 'why' of it all.
She drew back, totally shocked. Silas was dressed in a dark suit, crisp white shirt and stylish tie.
She didn't even know he owned a suit, let alone a tie. If that weren't shocking enough, every hair on his head was in place and he had trimmed his facial hair.
"You look... decent." she voiced her awe, her mouth still agape.
"I may look decent," the guard smirked, "but that's about as far as it goes."
Liz sighed, "You..." she pointed at the man, "don't even think of speaking at the funeral."
"I'm giving the eulogy," he spread his hands, his expression innocence itself.
Elizabeth's shocked expression was comical.
"Are we ready?" Red interrupted the two before they started trading barbs.
"We were born ready." Silas quipped, enjoying Liz's huff of exasperation.
Grabbing his glasses and fedora, Red set them in their proper place. Settling his hand on Elizabeth's back, he guided her towards the door.
The turnout was better than Red expected. Dembe parked the large SUV in a long line of cars.
Red grabbed his fedora, stepping from the vehicle.
Silas was already at Liz's door, their eyes meeting over the top of the car.
Red rested his hands on the latter, scanning the area. He lifted an enquiring glance not finding the object of his perusal.
Silas jerked his head in the needed direction, "Little prick is across the street, behind the blue Jeep."
Liz had collected her thing, accepting Silas' hand as she too, exited the car, "Why does he keep hanging around?" she joined the men in their activity as all three sought out Tom Keen.
Red's eyes had found the ostentatious car easily. For a supposed spy, Tom really didn't understand the art of subtlety.
"He will not be a nuisance this day."
Red had felt the presence before actually having seen the older gentleman approach.
Antonio Crocetti lay a comforting hand on his counterparts shoulder.
Red smiled a welcoming smile, "Antonio," he extended his hand, "I didn't expect to see you in attendance today."
He was frankly shocked in reality. And to add to the sensation, Anthony Burke stood off to the right, his gaze averted.
"No," he agreed quietly, "he will not sully such a solemn occasion."
Two rather imposing large gentlemen approached Tom's vehicle, flanking both doors in time.
Their muscled girth and deliberate air of ease dissuaded Tom from even attempting to exit the safety of his automobile.
"Antonio..." Liz welcomed the older gentleman's gentle attention, lifting her cheek for a chaste kiss, her hands secured by the strong grasp of confident fingers, "how lovely a surprise."
"I wanted to see for myself that you were well," he pulled back, a gentle smile caressing his face, "after your recent accident." he motioned to the soft cast on her foot.
"Just an old war injury," she quipped, "I am healing rapidly and how is your lovely wife?"
"Francis assured me you were," Antonio wasn't sure who was charming whom? "Maria is feisty and content. She sends her condolences."
Elizabeth had wormed her way into the old mobsters heart. Why, he could not have said but staring down at the deep blue eyes blinking up at him in such a beguiling manner, Liz's unguarded expression warmed his heart.
It was no wonder Reddington was so attracted to Elizabeth. Aside from her beauty and attractive form... her innocence was a captivating enticement for men such as he and Reddington.
To this day, his own Maria had an air of innocence. He knew she was well aware of his business dealings, but he had gone out of his way to secure a sphere of serenity and contentment around the woman that she could almost forget who he was... what he did.
When he went home to her, he wanted nothing to take away from their time together if at all possible.
From what he knew of this slip of a thing, Elizabeth would not stand for such tactics... not that he did not admire the young woman for her spirit and gumption. And most of all, her tenacity.
She was a fighter... that much was apparent. A woman after his own heart.
"I am so glad you are here today." Elizabeth meant the words. "You somehow center me. The world doesn't seem so scary when you are about."
"Really?" Red spread his arms out at his side, slightly gesturing to himself.
Antonio chuckled, a warmth settling in his chest. Elizabeth was quite the little charmer.
Waving a hand to the grand church, he offered his arm, "Shall we?"
Obediently accepting the gesture, Liz took Red's hand in the other as he came alongside.
"Oh," she drawled taking in their surroundings as they walked the paved walkway to the grand entrance, "it's so beautiful."
The church was grand indeed. The gothic cathedral looked better suited to fairytale weddings rather than funerals.
The tall spires seemed to stretch on forever towards the heavens. Stained glass windows dotted every window, painting the sidewalk and surrounding grounds in glittering shades of vibrant color. Lush landscaping and well-placed trees decorated the lawn.
It was a tranquil... peaceful. The sun had come out, the clouds drifting away.
"I promised you," the older man patted her hand, "Kevin's family would not want for anything."
Liz's eyes shimmered with wetness. It touched her Antonio remembered her guard's name, "Do you ever break a promise?"
"With you, little one," he murmured affectionately, "... never."
Red's mouth pulled at the corner, listening in on the quiet conversation. There seemed to be a natural fondness between Elizabeth and Antonio.
He knew the man had always wanted a daughter... a little princess to dote on.
Red's heart ached suddenly, understanding Antonio more than he did moments before.
They walked though the grand entrance, Liz's eyes flitting from one thing to another, taking it all in.
The warm glow of the stained glass danced against the dark mahogany wood. The gentle scent of aromatic candles burning and numerous flower arrangements filtered through the cavernous space, giving it a welcoming atmosphere.
Gesturing to a row of seats, Dembe walked into the space dominating it, followed by Red, Liz and finally Antonio.
The hushed reverence of the area quieted all speech.
Nora unhooked her arm from Silas', taking the seat the man offered. Silas settled in beside her. The other guards filled the rest of the seats.
Two spaces directly behind Liz and Antonio were kept for some unseen persons as yet, but everyone seemed to instinctively know not to take them.
Red shifted his eyes as a side door to his left opened, allowing Anthony and Francis to enter.
Red's eyes softened when Lizzy's brightened seeing her friend in attendance. He nodded his gratitude to the man, pleased Francis kept his word.
Francis inclined his head in deference, extending his hand to the old mobster. He slipped in behind Liz, playfully tugging her hair.
"Hey, squirt." he murmured affectionately, leaning to kiss her cheek.
Red's chest ached as her little face looked up at Francis, a small smile gracing his features.
Even as somber the occasion was, he couldn't help finding her impish features... adorable.
Francis rested his elbow along the back of Red's seat, leaning between him and Dembe.
"Extra guards are on Tom," he whispered, "and the exits." he took his seat next to Nora and Anthony.
The service was very emotional for the family, of course. Liz was moved to tears several times, Kevin's younger sister touched her heart when she tried to say a few words about her brother.
The graveside memorial, at which several of Silas' men spoke, was more a celebration of Kevin's life.
Silas himself, recounted an amusing incident that happened the first few years of their acquaintance when Kevin was a member of an elite search and rescue unit out of Kuwait.
Kevin and his team went in country in search of a missing government official. The guy had gotten himself in a shit load of trouble by assuming he was above established protocol.
They had learned from a supposed exchange of information involving an alleged Iraqi informant, the man's location.
The 'reliable source'... Silas air-quoted the phrase, rolling his eyes which said 'reliable source', in his world...equaled incompetent asshole.
The Iraqi informant must have felt along similar lines.
The information he had supplied Kevin and his unit concerning this 'high-placed government official', landed them in a 'high-end', fully operational and very, very busy... house of ill-repute.
Our government had released two political prisoners as a show of good faith... on the basis of this sterling bit of Intel.
Kevin had a hard time making out his report because he had been laughing so hard.
Red couldn't really concentrate on the proceedings. He watched the activity across the way.
Had now for some time, although he was trying hard not to allow anyone know of his distraction.
He wasn't being disrespectful to Kevin. The hairs on the back of his neck were tingling.
There was another service being held a goodly distance away. Red knew he recognized several faces in the gathering. He could count on one hand, five Underbosses of the local mob underground.
The men with their white carnations, requisite sunglasses, lit cigarettes dangling from their mouths... the women in their fashionable lace coverings over their heads and bling purses. Black handkerchiefs discretely placed under grieving eyes.
The garish floral decorations spelling out the name of the dearly departed. The crowd could have filled the Colosseum in Rome.
Antonio nudged his shoulder inconspicuously.
"A small gathering, as it were, considering," the older man had picked up on Red's preoccupation, "Big Louie passed."
Red's interest was caught. He kept his tone as low as Antonio, "...Passed?" he quirked his brow.
"Natural causes." Antonio spread his hands innocently, "The man was a walking coronary waiting to happen."
"And Mr. Kaplan?"
The woman in question primly picked particles from skirt and sleeves.
"Since when does she feel the need to attend–"
"Oh, she asked a favor of me." Antonio shrugged the question aside, "She is a hard woman to refuse."
Red searched out his head guard.
Silas frowned... nothing else, before averting his eyes.
Alarm bells chimed in Red's head, "Antonio–"
"No need to fret," the old mobster soothed kindly, "the hole was there..." the matter was settled in the man's mind. "Louie hated to be alone anyway... this way," Antonio patted Red's forearm, "he will have company for all eternity. A win-win situation, right?"
"Although, admittedly," Anthony Burke was finding the whole situation amusing, obviously having eavesdropped on the private conversation, "Big Louie preferred the fairer sex to males."
Antonio shrugged, "Perhaps, but at least these two have something in common."
"Who is buried in that grave?" Red feared he suddenly knew. The supposed 'lint' Kate was brushing from her clothes, now looked suspiciously like dirt smudges... as in... from a gravesite.
"I told you," Antonio clipped his reply, "no harm will come to Elizabeth."
Red shifted his eyes towards Silas, meeting the stoic grey ones.
Obviously, his head guard had neglected to inform him of a certain conversation that had taken place with Antonio. A conversation that related to Elizabeth's well-being.
"Reddington," Antonio scolded, "we are disrespecting a brave young man here." his look was a sad one. "Should we not turn our attention to Kevin's grieving family?"
Indeed, the service was breaking up, people drifting back slowly, aimlessly to their cars.
Antonio led the way as each man in turn, consoled Kevin's mother, expressing their condolences.
"Kevin had set aside this sum." Red pressed the check into her cold palm. "He planned for Amelia to go to college. I'm certain you knew, of course."
"...No," the bewildered woman stared at the envelope, her mind befuddled from the stress of the day, "no, he never said a word."
"He did to me," Red lied, "it's a modest sum and should your daughter ever finds she needs more, I would be only too happy to–"
"We-we could not possibly ask–" she floundered, "We d-don't even know you, Sir. I mean..."
"I knew your Kevin and had... have a great respect and affection for your son, Madam." Red brooked no argument, "I couldn't live with myself, in good conscience if I thought the people he cared for were in any way... wanting."
"I don't understand the ins and outs, but..." she was clearly lost, vulnerable, "apparently Kevin left an annuity... whatever that is." her fingers shook as she lifted them to trace her forehead, "A man came to the house. He said a bank account was opened in my name before," the tired faded eyes misted, "... before..."
She closed her eyes. Red's heart softened.
"It's a normal precaution most soldiers take." Red pacified, "Kevin was only thinking of you and your family."
Antonio nodded agreeably, "A thoughtful young man."
"Pity more aren't as conscientious." Anthony Burke put in his two-cents.
"You are associated with Kevin... how?" she enquired taking in the erudite men.
"We were privileged to have known him." Antonio side-stepped the question artfully. He took the weathered hands in his, "Had I a son..."
Red's eyes shifted, his head shaking negligibly. The man in fact had sons, but that wasn't important now.
Antonio continued, "I would want him to be just like the man you reared."
The woman was mollified, "I could not have wished for a better..." her own voice broke. Guests gathered about hastily, comforting their friend and relative.
Red replaced his hat, nodding his farewell. Antonio Crocetti patted the lady's shoulder comfortingly before taking his leave as well.
Liz waited patiently, Francis by her side.
On their way to the car, Liz conveyed to Red, "Remember, I have that appointment," she cocked her head, her brow furrowing, "Is that Mr. Kaplan?" she was thrilled to see the woman herself, in attendance.
Red scratched at his neck, his eye ticking, "Lizzy, I–"
The older mobster stepped forward, blocking Elizabeth's line of sight, taking the woman's hand in his.
Red blew out a controlled breath, thankful for the distraction. Until he knew the particulars of why Silas had made use of Kate's services... perhaps this was not the best time to delve into that incident.
Liz smiled at Antonio, as the man placed gentle lips to her hand, "It was so good to see you again. Even under such circumstances, Antonio."
"And you little one." the man was genuine with the comment, "You must come and meet with my Maria. We are celebrating our fortieth wedding anniversary soon."
"I would love that." Elizabeth leaned, kissing the weathered cheek affectionately, "don't forget to issue an invitation."
"Consider it an 'open' one," he jerked his thumb, "Reddington knows the address."
Francis took the man's attention for a beat.
"I need to borrow Silas, can Nora ride home with you guys?"
"You sure you don't want me to–"
She kissed Red's cheek, "Do your business. I'll see you at home later today, okay?"
He glanced across the gravestones, his expression a brooding one.
"Tom is well contained." she sensed his thoughts, "It's just a routine doctor's visit. You said I should keep my scheduled–"
"I know," he held up his hands, "Okay, just, be alert out there."
"I don't for one minute underestimate Carver's abilities." she had read his mind again.
"Yeah, well, I'm sending another car just to be safe."
"You always do." she smiled, caressing his lips gently, her eyes soft for the man. "...Say, if you really want to make me safe and content," she tried a ploy, "you'll give over the name of that–"
"She's one of my most valuable sources," Red declined, "I won't help you make a case against–"
"It was worth a shot." she teased, flirting openly, "I will graciously concede defeat."
"That'll be the day." he prophesied gloomily.
Elizabeth emerged from the office door, scanning the busy area with curious eyes.
She finally saw Silas' bulky figure.
He was 'guarding' the corridor.
To Elizabeth, his methods seemed questionable this day.
The man leaned, casually... his body conveying confidence verging on arrogance. His hand propped against the wall.
It appeared to Liz's trained eyes that Silas was hitting on a little 'stacked' blonde but perhaps it was just an erroneous misconception on her part.
If that were the case, however...
He had great taste, Liz had to give it to him.
The petite, little angel had an amazing figure, glorious hair and large, brown doe-eyes.
A dangerous glint splashed in Liz's eyes. She set her shoulders, keeping an evil grin under wraps as she flounced across the well-decorated room.
"Angel baby!" Liz sidled up to the handsome man, her expression a poutful one, "I've been looking for you everywhere!"
She spared the gorgeous blonde a 'mean' look.
She wrangled her arm into the man's muscled bicep, turning an endearing face his way.
"This is so exciting, isn't it!" she managed 'bubbly', "I hope it's a boy, and he has your..." she glanced down meaningfully, "...personality." she snuggled to him lovingly.
Silas' expression was... priceless. "What the–"
"I can't wait," it was emphasized, "to pick out things for the nursery!"
The blonde huffed indignantly, gathering her pride and flouncing away.
Silas exploded, "What the hell," he turned his attention post-haste, "was that!?" he watched the hot blonde bounce away, his mind filling with mouth watering images.
"Paybacks are a bitch." Liz mused thoughtfully.
Silas jerked his head about, his mouth agape.
"Banging the little brunette?" his words thrown back at him in that saccharin voice he was beginning to hate.
"You couldn't just dock my damned pay!" he hissed, headed off in the direction needed.
"I think I heard the nurse say your little friend was here to pick up a prescription for syphilis." Liz called after him, stopping the man in his tracks.
Silas looked helplessly from Liz to the tight little ass showcased so well by the yoga pants his 'little friend' sported.
"Syphilis?" he mused desperately, "That's curable right?"
"Eww! You are hopeless." Liz chortled, giggling her mirth, "You still think you can salvage this situation... daddy." she patted her tummy playfully.
"I'll 'daddy' your ass." he started toward the object of his ire.
"I'm saving you a lot of 'shot time' here, fella." she teased, "Show a little gratitude."
"You are one cruel bitch when you want to be, you know it?"
"You kiss the mother of your child with that mouth?" she batted her eyes innocently. She shielded her stomach protectively.
The man shook his head as an old lady sitting nearby gave him a scathing look of disdain.
Liz had noted the interchange, "Breastfeeding or bottle?" she queried, a glint in her eye.
"I was going for the breastfeeding," he quirked his head to the blonde, "now, I'll go home to cradle the bottle for solace."
"Oh, honey! You picked up on the theme!" she beamed a 'happy' smile.
The old woman... did not.
"How does that woman do it?" Elizabeth sighed blissfully, kicking off her shoes before heading to her most favorite spot in the room, beside the huge monstrosity of a bed, "Nora excels each and every time."
The chaise lounge looked so inviting as did the marked pages of the novel she immersed herself in these past few days in her off time.
Red caught her hand, seeing her destination.
It had been an established routine these days.
Elizabeth would finish off her cases for the day, then read for an hour of so before dinner. The man would pile into some comfortable clothes, heading for his laptop.
There were so many emails to answer these days. Red longed for a time when technology did not invade every aspect of one's daily life.
A tech-based world was his reality. Red dealt in 'reality'. He didn't have to like it. He just had to do it.
He had also set aside three days a week for some downtime with Elizabeth.
A relationship required the proper amount of time and effort.
He was only too glad to give over the hours needed.
But this afternoon was not supposed to be a free day.
Try telling his libido...
He drew the woman back within the sphere of his arms, his lips coaxing a response from the full, sensual mouth he captured.
The best feeling in the world was when Lizzy's arms crept slowly upward, winding lovingly about his neckline.
The feel of the warm, fragrant body crushing intimately to his was a feeling he was beginning to treasure.
One of the worst feelings in the world was when his fucking phone jarred him from such a pleasant place of contentment.
Lizzy scratched the underside of her chin with a sculptured nail, her eyes dancing with flirtatious amusement.
"Duty sucks, huh." she commiserated, pulling a 'sad' face in the next instance.
Red sent her on her way with a meaningful smack to her backside, enjoying the muffled giggle his actions produced.
He sent her a look before turning his attention to the phone caller.
Red listened half-heartedly to the person babbling on the other end of the line. His look was a sour one had anyone cared to note.
He had definite plans for Elizabeth Keen tonight and now, it appeared those plans would have to be put on hold.
He sighed repeatedly, shifting from foot to foot, "If I ran my organization the way the FBI runs the one you work for..." he concluded his opinion, "I'd be out of business in a week's time."
Liz looked up from her comfortable perch by the window, shooting him an are you including me in that assessment look.
The 'look' he gave her sent tiny little shivers of repressed flame between her thighs.
"Whatever!" he snapped at the person on the other end of the line, "Don't get your panties in a bunch. We'll be there when we get there!" he closed the phone with a definite snap.
The man crossed to an inquisitive female, grasped her hand and led her on a wandering trek across the room.
"Are we going to have sex on the basin again?" Liz was in a playful mood.
Red stopped, his head dropping with his mood.
He cast her a 'grumpy' shift of his eyes, "No, we're not going to have sex on the basin again."
She held her giggle for his sour mood, "On the ottoman?" she was flexible.
The man groaned, "I can call Ressler back and tell him I'm tied up for the night which means..." he smiled pleasantly, "we'll be having sex on the dining room table. The legs are perfect for securing ropes."
Liz chuckled, "Nora would kill you if she found out." she quipped, "What's up with the team?"
"Oh, so now sex is off the table."
"I said, Nora would kill us anyway." Liz remarked, "but the ottoman is still open. What's up with the team?"
Red glanced at the ottoman wistfully, "We're going to Montana."
She pulled a face, "Montana?" she was growing curious, "What's in Montana?
"Open skies and buffalo I hear tell." he trudged into the walk-in closet, pulling down suitcases. He filled her in on what info Ressler had given over.
Liz considered her options, "How long will it take to ready the jet?"
"About forty minutes give or..." he stopped pulling clothes out of drawers, "...Why?"
The woman smiled serenely, crossing to sit primly upon the large circular ottoman gracing the center of the closet.
She shifted patient eyes, "Well come on, Sailor... we don't have all night."
Red threw the boxers which dangled from his fingers over his shoulder, moving his body fluidly forward unbuckling his belt...
His mood incredibly improved.
Dembe nodded, taking Red's instructions as they drove. The man stifled a yawn, "...Sorry." he apologized for Red had halted his narrative.
"No, I apologize, Dembe, for the short notice." Red smiled at the man in the rearview mirror, "You're a good friend."
"Perhaps I am simply an adrenaline junkie." Dembe offered an alternative synopsis.
Red chuckled, his attention caught as Liz snuggled closer to his side, "Are you cold?"
She shook her head, stifling a yawn as well, "I'm out of the routine... you've babied me for too long." she smiled up at him, "Not used to these last-minute junkets any longer. Not that I'm complaining."
"That would be a first." Silas grumped from the front seat. "And that's not why you're tired."
"What's up his ass?" Red had made note of the other man's bad mood this evening.
Granted, the man was right. Lizzy was more... sated, than tired. But the guard's tone held more disdain than usual regarding their alone time.
"He's still mad at me for spoiling his fun at the doctor's office."
"Your little bundle there has the hots for me, by the way." the guard crooked his head about enough to speak, "She wants to have my baby. Thought I should be up front about things."
Red's brow furrowed.
Dembe rolled his eyes.
"That's right, Red." Liz nodded amiably, "I've tried and tried... just can't keep my hands off that magnificent body of his." she yawned once more.
She felt the man's own body lose some of its tension.
"We all know he's too much for just one woman, of course." she smiled sweetly at the back of the guard's neck, "But I just didn't feel like sharing today. I made that horrible little blonde floozie go away, didn't I baby cakes."
"Kiss my ass sweet cheeks." Silas grumbled, "I could be in Seventh Heaven right now instead–"
"You could be at a clinic getting syphilis shots." Liz chided playfully.
Red exchanged looks with Dembe in the rearview mirror once again.
Silas went back to his brooding, happy to do so, "I still vote to muzzle her."
Liz stifled her giggle into Red's jacket.
Red shook his head to clear it, "I'm still on the 'wants to have your baby thing'." he turned expressionless eyes towards his guard, "Which is not going to happen by the way."
Silas waved the issue aside, "All I'm saying is... when I'm circling my prey. Maybe she should shut the hell up and let me enjoy the meal."
"Is that a metaphor or a simile?" Dembe was curious.
"Your meal would have made your little soldier fall off." Liz muttered.
"I've had a stretch of bad JuJu," Silas vented, "and I think I deserve a little downtime between the sheets if you get my meaning."
"How could we," Dembe asked, "you are such a subtle creature."
"I had a clear shot with that blonde and she wrecked it all." he jabbed a finger at the back seat in Liz's vicinity.
"I would say she was anything but 'clear'." Liz shared her thoughts with Red.
Silas turned about, his expression incredulous.
Red's laughter mingled with Dembe's low, controlled chuckle.
"Is that why you came along?" Red had wondered over the fact. "To air your grievances?"
He had informed Silas that there was no great need for him to accompany them to the airport. That the man could fly out in a day or so.
Red actually was concerned that his head guard just might possibly need some 'heal' time.
Lizzy would be surrounded by her team and Red didn't intend to leave her side so, he felt it advantageous to allow Silas some much needed personal time.
"I'll not have her saying I shirked my duties." Silas was still in a mood, clearly.
"Oh, I say that all the time." Liz needled artfully, "Don't I, Red."
"Yes you do, baby cakes."
Liz laughed her delight at his dry delivery.
"At least you have the good sense not to listen or believe the afflicted." Silas threw a knowledgeable look to the back seat, "And if you must know...I came along because I know Dembe can't see to drive at night."
Liz was instantly concerned but also a little puzzled, "Then... why aren't you driving?"
"Well, I didn't want to hurt the guy's feelings." Silas managed, straight faced.
Dembe shook his head woefully, shifting into a more comfortable position, "You are full of shit, my friend."
Silas chuckled appreciatively.
"Dembe, are you all right?" Liz scooted up, her hand on the back seat, her expression a worried one.
"He's fine," Red reassured, "not so sure about pretty boy, here."
Silas laughed again, "She always falls for it."
"Perhaps because of her innate kindness?" Red suggested.
"Nah," Silas dismissed the thought, "just that innate naiveté... and she's just a sucker for a sob story."
Liz sat back, a sheepish look on her face, "He's right... I'm an idiot."
"You are not an idiot." Red nuzzled the woman's temple, "You are–"
"Mentally challenged." Silas corrected magnanimously.
"A brilliant profiler." the man continued, his eyes narrowing, "Which is infinitely better than being unemployed." Red stated a warning.
Silas sighed heavily, "You always take her side."
"Well...duh." Dembe offered in that eloquent way he had about him.
Silas laughed again, his good mood restored.
Red sat back, his thoughts turning elsewhere. He watched the lights of the city from across the river as they shimmered in the reflecting waters.
Now was as good a time as any he supposed, to broach a matter that had been on his mind.
"'Lizabeth," his brow was furrowed. He was glad Dembe had started up a conversation with Silas, "I need to ask you something."
Red was striving for a measure of privacy. He glanced at the occupants of the front seat, moving closer to the woman, lowering his voice discretely.
She was attentive, the slender fingers intertwining with his, "A problem?"
"I'm not sure," he confessed, "listen, this will be the first time we've connected with the team since we..." the tip of his tongue pressed to the center of his upper lip as he pondered his options, "...well, our relationship has evolved considerably. Wouldn't you say?" he turned patient eyes her way.
Liz processed, "We are all adults here, Red." she thought she understood what he was asking, "I don't see why there would be–"
"Speculation?" he sat back, sighing mentally.
Sometimes he forgot how the young could rationalize any rule... bend them to suit the moment.
"Lizzy, I am a known criminal," he understated, "I am supposedly your CI."
"So?"
"You are half my age," he continued, "trust me... eyebrows will raise when people find out we are... associated in the Biblical sense."
"Since when do you care what people think?"
"I care if they say or think derogatory things about you."
"My friends wouldn't–"
"I've come to terms with it all." Red had long ago. "I'm not sure anyone else can say the same at this point."
"I'm just saying," he held up a staying hand at her expression, "it might be easier if we..." he couldn't even say it, the thought going against every principle he believed.
The man bit his lip thoughtfully. Could he do it for Lizzy? Could he pretend that none of what had transpired between them simply did not exist.
"I have no intention of running around hiding my true feelings." the woman was getting angry.
"You know that is not the case." he stopped that line of thought cold in its tracks. "A lot has gone down between us that even Ressler and Samar–"
"They can handle it," Liz stated firmly, "well...maybe not Ress." she teased to lighten the moment, "Hey... let's give him the business."
Red tried to pick up on the woman's mood but... "I'm kind of up in the air on this one." he admitted. "This could conceivably affect your career. I don't want that, Elizabeth. I don't want to be the cause–"
"I understand what you're saying." Liz's tone softened.
"Do you?" he didn't think so. "If you want to keep our situation under wraps for the duration of this outing, I will understand."
It rather hurt Liz, truth told, "Could you do that?"
Red sat back, returning to the passing scenery, "I can do what has to be done." he thought he might be able to, at least. He cut her an unreadable look, "It doesn't mean I have to like it. Make no mistake about that, Elizabeth."
"Well, I don't like it." she let him know her feelings. "Not one bit."
"Think carefully before you make a decision on this one." he advised. "Bravado is all well and good, but if this gets to the wrong people in the Bureau..." he let it hang between them, "You've worked long and hard to get where you are. Move carefully, baby."
The conversation in the front seat had died down on that note.
Liz fell silent, given food for thought.
Silas was ticking off time on his fingers, Dembe picked up on the action, a smile spreading slowly over his handsome face.
"If that's the type of organization I work for..."
"Three seconds," Silas muttered to his companion, "I knew she couldn't keep her mouth shut for–"
"Maybe I shouldn't work for it." Liz was becoming incensed more she thought about it, "They wouldn't even have these cases if it weren't for me..." she caught the slip, "and you... helping me."
Red smiled.
"My private life has nothing to do–"
"Be reasonable, Lizzy." Red sighed, "Our situation is a little unique, you have to admit."
"It's because of my job we were put in this situation."
"With the understanding, it was all supposed to be a means to an end."
"And we've delivered enough of these 'ends'," she pointed out, "they should be more than satisfied with the results you have provided."
Red knew that would not be the case.
"Your friends accept us," Liz stated, "Mine will as well and as for the others," she shook her head stubbornly, "they don't matter. I like my job but not enough to allow anyone other than myself, to dictate my life choices."
Dembe and Silas exchanged looks, "Easy words to say," Silas stirred the pot for Red's sake, "can you live up to them?"
"I can get another job if I have to." Liz wasn't worried, "Nothing is written in stone."
"A few things are," Red disagreed, "like, if you say we're 'on', I have no intention of pulling any punches for appearance's sake."
Liz blinked over at the man,
"I'll kiss you when I want, I'll hold you in my arms if the mood strikes," he ticked off his conditions.
"You can play footsie," Silas quipped, "It'll be like foreplay."
"...We will sleep in the same bed." Red continued.
"If I'm on the mood." she had provisions of her own.
"I can get you in the mood." he wasn't worried.
Liz chafed at Silas's throaty chuckle.
"I just want everything clear before we hit the airport." Red could see the object looming on the distant horizon.
Dembe eased the vehicle into the lane which exited the freeway.
Liz sat back, "Pity really," she had made her decision, "it would have been nice to give Ressler the business." she smiled finally, "He's always bragging about how astute his instincts are... how intuitive he can be."
"I didn't say we couldn't harass Ressler," Red sort of liked the idea of screwing with the other man, "but when you say it's over... it's over."
Liz cast him a scornful glance, "You're getting as bad as him." she motioned to Silas.
"I only meant," Red amended tactfully, "I'm not sure how long I can go between any kind of intimacy with you. I'd like to know there will be a reckoning at some point."
"Good save." Silas approved, throwing the comment back over his shoulder, "Keeping in mind, this is coming from the guy who was held captive once for eight days without any hope of 'reckoning' in sight."
Red lifted an annoyed stare, "That was my pride.. The other would involve my libido."
"Ahh," Silas hadn't thought in those terms. He understood all about libidos these days.
"Why am I even here?" Liz was confused. "I'm still on leave, aren't I?" she fidgeted in her seat. Suddenly, this outing didn't seem all that exciting anymore.
"Two reasons," Red explained, "firstly, Silas here won't take a break with you about... it's something to do with his job, I'm given to understand."
"I don't need a friggin' break," the man mumbled, "who said I did."
"Your libido?" Dembe muttered aside.
"And secondly," Red ignored the interruption entirely, "I don't trust you at home to do the things the doctor said you must, to heal."
"Excuse me!" she sputtered indignantly.
"He doesn't trust anyone to watch you while Carver is on the prowl," Silas corrected, "that's the excuse I got at least."
"I trust you when you are in peak condition," Red soothed any ruffled feathers, "but the truth is," he turned back to Elizabeth, "this particular case should be relatively straightforward. It provides an excellent opportunity for you to get your feet wet with the least amount of–"
"Danger?" Liz dared him to say it, her eyes narrowing.
"Stress or exertion," he continued, "Aram is another factor. I'm sure he will appreciate your calming presence." Red could come up with any number of excuses or reasons if pressed. "He hasn't been in the field since you left."
"What aren't you telling me?" Liz was beginning to read between the lines where this man was concerned.
Dembe guided the large SUV effortlessly around the buildings, along the back lot, onto the tarmac.
Dembe pulled up alongside a government issue SUV, the jet waited in the background, its door open and inviting.
Liz took in the area and the people gathered alongside the other car.
Red slid effortlessly out of his side of the car, patiently waiting as she struggled with her gimpy leg. A reluctant smile pulled at her lips at the thought. At one time, she would have considered it her injured leg. Now, due to Silas' bad influence... she was gimpy.
"I hate this damn thing." Liz groused morosely, suddenly not looking forward to facing those who waited.
She wished she had grilled Red more about the case. She really had fallen out of old habits.
She hadn't realized how much until this minute.
"What the hell happened?" Samar approached gingerly, meeting Liz and Red as they made their way around the car. "You were out of that damn thing when I saw you last!"
The woman wore dark pants and low scooped neckline shirt. A colorful scarf adorning her neckline draped in a fashionable cowl dip.
Her hair was down, windblown from the open field lining the runways on this side of the airport.
She looked lovely as usual.
Liz had not second guessed her apparel until just now. Had she been the only one not in a suit, she would have been embarrassed. Only when she realized Samar was dressed in a similar fashion, did she relax.
"Little accident..." Liz glanced down at the offending object, accepting the warm reception, "It's only for a couple days."
Red's earlier encouragement, echoed his earlier sentiments bringing a smile to his lips.
She leaned, accepting Ressler's earnest handshake.
Over his shoulder, another man waited patiently, an expectant look on his oddly symmetrical face.
She knew this guy. Or at least... he seemed familiar. She searched her memory.
"Hey, Keen," Ressler broke free, motioning the guy forward, "you know Andrew Wilson, right? He came over from Organized Crime and Domestic Threats a couple months before you..."
A memory stirred, "I do know you," she managed a smile, "the break room about... what was it, four months ago? It was still cold outside." she remembered that part vividly.
The man took her hand, shaking it, smiling sheepishly, "I spilled coffee... well, everywhere."
"Been there," Liz made him feel more comfortable, "done that... too many times to count."
"Four," Ressler counted, "to date."
Liz slipped him a wry side glance catching Samar out of the corner of her eye.
The woman was discretely poking fun at Wilson's 'bright' choice of tie. Samar feigned momentary blindness.
Liz was hard pressed to hold her smile, but managed, "I love your tie." she hoped she sounded sincere. But she wasn't. "It's so... stylish."
Wilson seemed genuinely pleased, "We're always accused of being so traditionally boring." he shrugged unassumingly. "Don't know if it works, but it brightens a long day." he quipped.
Liz liked him instantly, "It brightens mine too." she decided.
"It's so good to finally, formally meet you," Wilson continued, his manner open and friendly, "I've learned so much about you from your team and I understand you are an excellent profiler as well?"
"Don't know about excellent," she modestly denied the praise, "but I enjoy that aspect of the job, yes."
Red stared hard at the hand holding Lizzy's, more specifically the thumb stroking her. He sighed deeply as the other agents approached, the day just getting all that more gloomy.
"Do we really have time to hold a family reunion or gab session?"
Liz scowled darkly at the new arrival on scene. Another car had arrived moments before, delivering another of their ensemble.
"...Moore." Elizabeth's tone had definitely altered having recognized the guy, "I thought you would have been assigned to a field office in Nowhere, Idaho by now. What are you doing here?"
"Scott," the same acerbic response met her ears, "good to see you too."
"It's Agent Keen, actually." Liz corrected coolly.
"He was in Nowhere, Nebraska." Samar interjected, more than intrigued by the animosity between the two agents. "And before that, it was Nowhere, Alaska wasn't it, Dick?" she smiled pleasantly at the man.
"You two should take it on the road." Moore bitingly replied, "You're hilarious."
Dembe stepped between the two warring factions, his attention focused on Agent Richard Moore, "We are commencing boarding." his silky voice brooked no argument.
"Now would be an excellent time to... take your seat." Silas narrowed his eyes.
Moore unconsciously backed away, looking the man up and down, "And you would be?"
"The guy who told you to take your friggin' seat." Silas' attitude lacked the finesse of Dembe's, "So take your fucking seat before I–"
"Silas." Red intoned quietly.
"You'll have to excuse him," Dembe didn't sound as if he cared one way or other if the guy did or didn't, "he hasn't been laid in a while."
"Makes me... cranky." Silas' stony expression was foreboding on the best of days.
"Poor baby." Samar's silky caress grabbed the guard's attention, as it did every man present, Liz assumed, "That's so sad."
Silas was instantly by Samar's side having moved very, very close to the woman, "Yes, yes it is sad. Almost criminal, you might say."
Liz noted his tone had changed considerably as well as his manner.
"You're a law enforcement specialist aren't you?" Silas' eyes moved slowly over Samar's beautiful body, stopping in all the right places, "Can't you do something about a situation like that? I mean," the light grey eyes lifted sensually, "if you were of a mind?"
Samar's lovely mouth hinted at a smile, the dark eyes examining Silas much as he had her.
"Help a man out, can't ya?" the guards tone dipped erotically, hidden innuendo behind the statement.
"No!" Elizabeth gasped, rushing to the rescue before the situation got out of hand, "No, don't help a man out... don't do that." she scolded Samar soundly, guiding the woman out of harms way, "Not at all."
Silas was not deterred this time, seeking a higher court.
Samar smiled playfully back as Liz continued to drag her to safety.
The large guard eyed the Iranian beauty covetously, "Hey, Red," he interrupted a conversation between Ressler and his employer, "about me staying behind..."
Samar pretended to be listening to Liz's lamentation concerning the terribly unwise move a woman, any woman, could make if she even considered getting involved with a degenerate such as Liz's guard was turning out to be.
It was clear to Red, Samar wasn't taking any of the well-meaning advice to heart.
Silas smiled charmingly back at the receptive playmate, "I think I could best serve–"
Another car appeared on the tarmac, this one speeding forward in an erratic manner.
Silas stiffened, halting his narrative.
Dembe stepped decidedly closer to the two women by the steps of the jet.
Red's brow furrowed darkly, he too, preparing for action if indeed, action was called for.
The car skidded to a halt. Even before the vehicle pulled to a stop, Aram's long legs exited, his arms full of laptops, tech gear and other odd looking paraphernalia.
He stumbled hastily towards the gathered group of Agents, his look a harried one.
"Oh, thank goodness. I thought you might have left already... without me."
He unloaded his burden, handing off equipment to Ressler and Wilson as he spoke, "The traffic was horrendous, we couldn't catch a break."
The man rushed back to the car, extracting luggage and yet another laptop.
"I tried to phone, but no one was picking up," he was upset, "I thought– Agent Kee–Liz!" his face beamed, "I didn't realize you would be here!"
He approached both women, "You didn't answer your phone." he looked hurt.
"I'm sorry," Samar took the laptop he juggled, "it was hectic. I didn't hear it." she lied to lessen the blow.
"Oh." Aram was happy again.
"...Silas?" Red pulled the man's attention away from the proceedings, "What were you saying?" he knew, of course. But Silas' manner had altered now.
The man seemed abnormally quiet, "Eh... nothing," he shook his head, "it wasn't... it was nothing important. Can I help with the luggage?"
"If you want to go, you can." Red encouraged, his eyes seeking out Samar purposely, "No reason you shouldn't."
"Yeah," Silas pulled his eyes from the woman who tried desperately to find a moment to connect with the brooding stare, "there's one important one."
Red was concerned for the man's lackadaisical manner. It wasn't like Silas to give up so easily on anything, let alone–
"He laid claim first." Silas clearly meant Aram, "I don't trespass on another man's dream."
Red scowled, "She a free agent, Silas."
"I need to rest." he replied curtly, hefting two bags in capable hands. He crooked his head, "I'm good." he forced a smile, "Really, when have you ever known me not to be?"
"It's not like she's not interested." Red stated encouragingly. He had seen the interaction between the two.
Silas shook his head, going to the plane. Red watched the bulky form disappear then reappear moments later.
Silas cast a regretful smile Samar's way, waving nonchalantly as he passed the gathered trio.
Liz noted the man's quietness, a studied frown on the handsome features.
She sought Red out, a questioning look passing between them.
Red spread his hands, a helpless gesture signifying, his 'hands' were tied on the matter.
Liz's scowl increased. She fought a tendency to go after her guard. She bit her lip anxiously.
Samar appeared a little down now as well.
Aram kept a running discourse going, to take the woman's mind off what 'could have been'.
"You're loaded up." Silas proclaimed, taking the keys from Dembe, "I'll call when..."
He glanced at Moore who was pretending to check the closures on his luggage.
The guy was blatantly listening in on any and all conversations available.
"...That matter has been handled," Silas stated, "If there is a problem out there, call."
"There won't be a problem." Dembe stated.
Silas glanced longingly at Samar, "No... I guess you guys can handle that part of the equation."
"You never know." Red couldn't dash hope in such a cold manner.
"I think there is enough agents on hand," Moore was amused a want-to-be hired mercenary thought his assistance might be called for, "we can handle anything thrown at us. Civilians will only be in the way."
"Who the fuck asked you?" Silas bristled, his beefy hands curling into massive fists, "A fucking moron like you couldn't cross a street without consulting a fucking manual first."
Moore hefted his backpack and one lone valise, choosing to ignore the surly guard's attitude.
"Fuck you." Silas grit.
Reddington set a calming hand on the guard's forearm, stifling his amusement.
Moore ducked his head, crossing to the luggage compartment of the jet.
He felt three sets of icy stares the entire way.
A tiny trickle of fear ran the length of his spine. He chose to ignore that as well.
"I want to put a round in that idiot fucker's brains." Silas snapped.
"Why waste a bullet?" Dembe was curious.
"He's paying for it." Silas commented, Moore forgotten as soon as the bastard was out of sight.
Red grinned, "I wonder if it's a right-off?"
"It would be a service to a government agency," Silas grumbled, "it should be."
Red watched the man cross the tarmac, entering the vehicle they had exited. The SUV spun out at a high rate of speed.
Dembe waved wistfully in its wake. Red shook his head, "He was never one for long goodbyes."
"Lizzy," Red had other priorities now, offering his hand, "that leg bothering you?"
Liz grimaced, accepting his assistance readily, the small fingers grasping his for needed support, "I can see I'm going to be a big help." she prophesied.
Red was silently pleased she took his hand without a second thought. She would not have a couple months ago.
"Lean on me, sweetheart." Red's arm snaked about her waist. He guided her toward the steps of the plane.
Wilson checked the strap on his holster unit, "...Sweetheart?" he drawled to Ressler who was cleaning the lens on his sunglasses with his tie.
"It's just Reddington's way," Ressler dismissed, "Every woman is sweetheart or angel or... something inappropriate." the agent placed his hand on his hips, "We try that today and we'd get written up for sexual harassment."
"Which is a hanging offense." Wilson quipped, "It's getting so a guy is afraid to open his mouth."
"Open mouth, insert foot." Ressler grinned, "Moore hasn't caught up to this century yet."
Both men shared a chuckle.
"I'm surprised Keen lets Reddington get away with it." Wilson said.
"I think Liz gave up on trying to sway him a year ago." Ressler shrugged. "Besides, I don't believe he means it in a demeaning manner when speaking to her," the man shrugged, "or any woman for that matter."
"I hate to say it," Ressler watched the pair's progress up the steps, "Reddington really stepped up and supported Keen after her ex went off the rails."
Reddington quickly steady the small brunette, looking worried for a moment until Keen waved a negligent hand indicating she was fine.
The strawberry blonde spared Wilson a glance, "You heard she was attacked by a psycho, right? Shortly thereafter?"
Wilson's face clouded.
"She's had a hard time of it this past few months." Ress picked up his bags, "Sucks really. She's... okay." he shrugged off the compliment.
"I don't mean to cause trouble but a thought occurred," Wilson's brow was troubled, "how do we know Reddington didn't orchestrate the events."
Ressler pulled up short, his temper flaring, "What the hell is that supposed to–"
"I don't know the guy at all," Wilson hurried to catch up to the rapid steps of the other man, "Could he be manipulating the situation? Save a Fed... get a gold star."
"Reddington is a lot of things," Ress said, tossing Navabi's bag into the cargo hold, "but he'd never hurt Keen." The accusation was blown off. "Especially for something he couldn't give a damn about receiving."
"What do you–"
"Reddington could disappear in the blink of an eye," Ressler disgusted, "he couldn't care less about appeasing or pleasing a government piss-ant."
"I've wondered about the reason he made the deal to catch these Blacklisters." Wilson agreed, "He will only share info with her, correct? But... why?"
"Take a wild guess." Moore had retraced his steps, bag in hand, "They tell me I have to put my stuff in here. She gets her bag on board... do I have to explain that as well, Wilson."
"Explain it to me." Ressler got the jest of the accusation.
"Hey, I didn't mean to cause trouble," Wilson hastily interjected, "I'm new here," he looked from one to the other, "I'm just trying to understand the dynamics of the team."
"Keep out of this," Ressler snapped, returning his ire to the object of his disdain, "you implying something about Keen?"
"Open your eyes," Moore suggested caustically, "Something is going on between those two," he pointed in the vicinity of the jet, "It's not just normal interaction between a CI and his–"
"Do you think Reddington was sleeping with Liz before he turned himself in?" Samar approached, hefting Aram's computer bag, "Or that he wants in her panties now? Winning her favor by supplying the Blacklisters."
"Liz was married." Ressler bristled even more so, not liking the implication one bit, "I'll knock you on your ass–"
Samar soothed by placing a hand on the man's stocky shoulder, "Let's clear the air because..." she glanced at the plane, "if Reddington catches wind of any sort of derogatory issue involving Elizabeth–"
"He won't hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes..." Ressler stated flatly, "and quite frankly, I wouldn't blame him."
"Reddington does not play by any set of rules you are familiar with," Samar continued, "he's allowed your disrespect because of his deference to that woman in there..." again she pointed, "his patience is about at its end... my God, can't you sense that?"
"I meant no disrespect to Agent Keen..." Wilson was quick to pacify, "I have heard–"
"I know what you heard." Ressler grated, knowing very well the office gossip.
"I understand you're curious, we all are," Samar admitted, "but it's crass to judge someone on the basis of appearances... and what if it is true?" she wanted to know, "We are all adults here, aren't we?"
"It isn't right!" Moore snapped, "There is such a thing as professionalism."
"Oh, grow the hell up." Ressler suggested strongly, "you're trying to get to first base with that blonde in accounting... what makes you any different than–"
"You shut the hell up about Melody," Moore advanced threateningly but Ressler wasn't impressed, "she's a decent woman."
"And Liz isn't?" Samar was suddenly livid, "You American men make me sick, acting all pious where women are concerned and you assholes running with your dicks hanging out, panting after anything that will spare you the time of day."
Ressler's mouth quirked irresistibly.
"Liz is good at her job, better than you will ever be, Moore," she flared, stepping toe-to-toe with the guy, "if Reddington and she have established a bond, there is a good reason!"
Ressler stood back and watched the sparks fly, proud of his partners verve truth told.
"He took care of her emotional and physical well being when we couldn't," she motioned to Ressler and herself, "he saved her from a serial killer's gentle administrations... we weren't there to do that either!"
Moore's expression altered slightly, "I know she's had a hard time of–"
"Hard time?" Samar was incredulous, "Yeah, she's had a little trouble of late in her personal life... just a tad."
"Listen..." Wilson seemed very uncomfortable with all the dissension, "please, this isn't getting us anywhere."
"Keep your damned mouth shut and your thoughts to yourself, "Samar snapped in Moore's direction, "I don't want to hear them." she started off only to turn smartly on her heel.
"And what if they are fucking each other?" she was beyond livid, "it's none of our damned business. We're here to do a job... get psychos off the street."
The lovely eyes flashed fire.
Ressler grinned, enjoying the show.
"We're doing that with flying colors regardless of what is or is not, happening between Red and Liz's sheets." she pointed out, "I don't remember our stats being so good before Reddington came into the picture."
She marched off without a backward glance.
Ressler chuckled his delight closing the compartment with a thud, "What she said." he sauntered away, his mood very much improved. "And one other little tidbit, you wreck this arrangement with Reddington in any way shape or form... and I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when you have to explain the why of it all to Cooper."
Grasping his computer bag, Ressler took a step, hesitating.
"Watch out, Navabi's got a mean right hook." he warned in reminder... to Moore.
Red watched the fiasco from his seat, peering out the window of the jet in the dusky light.
"You do know they're discussing us, don't you?" he turned a lazy stare to the woman beside him.
"Yep." she giggled, twisting the cap off her preferred tea. She sat back getting comfortable.
"Samar is pissed," he watched the woman pace back and forth just off the stairs, "she defended your honor."
Liz craned her neck to see, "How do you know? "
"A woman doesn't get that livid over anything less."
"I'll go talk to her." Liz felt bad.
"Give her a little time," Red suggested, "emotions are raw right now."
"I don't want her feeling bad because of me." Liz objected.
"She feels great, actually." Red chuckled, "She just wants to kill someone. Moore, probably."
"I sympathize." Liz pulled a face, "I wish we could push him off the plane after we were high enough."
"How high is high enough?" Red smiled.
"Thirty-thousand?" she questioned. She hadn't done anything of the sort before but the height she quoted seemed reasonable.
Red looked at her oddly, "We must go below radar range..." he informed her, "it will still kill him." he reassured.
She giggled at the conversation, going back to her original thought, "I wonder what was said?" she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know though.
"I wonder what wasn't." Red stowed Lizzy's computer bag.
"Samar told them, if we are having sex, it's no one's business but our own." he said.
"Well, it isn't." she agreed, "Still, Samar is so cool. I admire that style she possesses."
"She came by it the hard way, baby." Red's voice was wistful, "She's done a hell of a lot of undercover work... Honeypot operations and the like." he scowled. "A shit poor thing for a woman to be asked to do."
"How far do you think she had to go?" Liz often wondered such things, "Oh! Not that I'm judging–"
"I know you don't." he patted her hand comfortingly, "odd, men judge her more harshly than one of her own species."
"I... couldn't imagine having to do... that." Liz scowled deeply, "I would hate to make the decision."
"Any woman does." Red knew, "She had a very different life than you, Lizzy." he was sad for the fact, "You were sheltered, Samar... wasn't. She had to grow up quickly, learn how to survive in a world you can't even imagine."
Liz couldn't, she knew.
"She's a hell of a woman." Red chuckled quietly.
"What does that make me?" Liz was a little concerned.
"A survivor." Red replied, glancing at the girl affectionately, "with your own special qualities."
"I have a gimpy leg," she ticked off the 'qualities' in rapid succession, "I bitch and moan about everything under the sun, according to Silas... and can't cook worth a damn according to...well, anyone that has ever tasted my efforts–"
"You are an excellent profiler, capable of seeing the broader side of any personality," he began, correcting her misconception of herself, "you are now, thinking outside the box, you are getting stronger mentally each and every day."
Liz loved the touch of his hand. It traced the side of her face gently.
"You are pushing past your boundaries, becoming more self assured." he was proud of her achievements, clearly.
"You are smart... and beautiful," he concluded, "You are finally becoming your own person, Elizabeth, and that is a woman I am privileged to know."
Liz leaned into his soft touch, smiling.
"You and Samar have become quite formidable in your own right." he nodded amiably.
Liz sat back, the praise delighting her. Red sat back as well, turning his attention to the outside world.
"I wasn't aware you knew Moore." a thought occurred. The man in question had glanced up at the portal of the plane before turning aside.
"I didn't make the connection until I saw the asshat on the tarmac." Liz admitted.
Red lifted his brows silently waiting for the tale to unfold because he sensed there was one, his interest keen.
"We went through training at the same time. Quantico is a very competitive place." she shifted comfortably, "It seemed he and I were always pitted against one another in some form or another," she rolled her eyes, "Isn't that the way of things. The thing you hate most is always shoved in your face."
"Who won?"
She looked hurt, "I did!"
Red chuckled his amusement, his hypothesis confirmed.
She leaned closer, "I'm surprised he's here," Liz admitted, "on the team, I mean."
Red glanced back out at the man who was pacing up and down, Wilson following back and forth, speaking animatedly, "Why? Because he's not worth anything?" he sought her out, "Or you thought he'd be dead by now."
"Wishful thinking on my part." she crinkled her nose, "That was tacky... sorry, but," she sighed under her breath, "You know he never did make any of the top ten spots."
Red watched the man, his shrewd eyes summing the guy up.
"I overheard one of the instructors talking about him," Liz had, "Mediocre at best, was the verdict." she shrugged, "I always wondered how they classified me?"
"Classy and hot." Red supplied the answer.
She waved a dismissive hand, "Bumbling but game, more like it."
Red chuckled under his breath, taking a drink from his tumbler.
"One of the team back then remarked something to the effect," she continued, "one white supremacist would probably end up taking down one of their own," she motioned to Moore out side the plane.
The guy was getting pissed off at Wilson now, clearly.
"Another said, Moore would be a victim of an unfortunate case of friendly fire."
A bubble of laughter collected in Red's chest. He shared a smile with an amused Dembe.
"I have a weapon," Liz's eyes narrowed considerably. Moore stalked off, leaving a bewildered Wilson in his wake.
Liz felt sorry for the tall, gangly agent. Wilson seemed so eager to fit in... to belong.
Red broke the woman's train of though, his fingertips under her stubbornly set chin, "Don't kill him... just yet." he cooed lovingly, "Get your badge back and make it legal."
She smiled, leaning to kiss the lips that had given her a glimmer of hope, "You always give the best advice."
"I always give the best everything."
He slowly pulled away as agent by agent filtered through the loading door. He winked at Liz playfully before arising, joining Dembe at the flight deck.
They closed the cockpit door, sharing a private conversation.
Liz smiled brightly to their 'guests', "Bar is to left, bathroom... rear," she motioned much as a flight attendant might, not even realizing the fact.
The engines whirred to life.
She fell immediately silent, hastily buckling her seat belt, her fingers gripping the arm rests tightly, her body tensing.
Red's low chuckle for the woman's state was pointedly ignored, "We haven't even started to move yet." he eased into his seat grasping her cool fingers in a tight clasp, "You know flying is a much safer mode of transportation than driving."
"Tell that to the pit of my stomach," she squeezed his hand in a death grip.
Ressler noted the contact. Red noted Liz noting the fact.
"She hates flying," he explained the obvious, grimacing slightly as the plane started to move because Liz's grip had viced-up a notch, "...a lot."
Ressler glanced once again to the contact. "Man up, Keen." he remarked, "We all have to go sometime."
Red sighed heavily, "Not helping," he tried to wriggle his fingers a little bit.
"Really?" Samar snapped her pique, throwing a disgruntled look Ressler's way, "Shall we have a discussion about the smell of baby diapers."
"Oh my God woman," Ressler's face turned a sickly green. He wretched visibly as the images conjured, rushed though his minds eye.
Dembe laughed appreciatively for the agent's discomfort.
"Lizzy, we'll be perfectly fine," Red patted her ice cold hand soothingly.
"I know that." she replied way too fast, her tone clipped.
"Would I let you get on here if I wasn't sure it was safe?" Red tried again.
"No." she watched the plane taxi slowly, the ground outside a safe haven she wished she was on at the moment.
"I have this jet serviced at each and every stop to ensure your safety," he stretched out his legs, purposely taking a relaxed pose.
"That's nice," she swallowed hard. The plane was turning onto the runway, "what do you do while we're in the air," was a more prevalent question, "you should issue parachutes for your passengers."
Red held his smile.
"Liz, flying really is very safe these days." Samar interjected.
"It's unnatural," Liz was certain. The plane was positioning for take off. "If God meant man to fly, he would have given us wings."
"The plane has wings." Aram pointed to them, his finger falling slowly when Reddington shook his head minutely.
"That frequently fall off." Liz reminded.
Samar and Aram shared a quiet chuckle.
"I wasn't going to tell you this..." Red tried another tact, "I know it will probably piss you off."
Liz turned her head fleetingly. The plane was picking up speed fast.
"It's something Silas said before we boarded."
Liz scowled darkly, her head whipping back. "What did he say?" she demanded.
Red held her attention and her eyes willfully, "He said..." the plane lifted effortlessly, gliding through the air with precision accuracy, "be sure and think up something to take the dingbats mind off the lift off... you know how crazy insane she gets."
Samar compressed her lips, a musical chuckle finally escaping.
Liz was slightly annoyed.
"I'm sorry," Samar seemed genuine, "but..." she motioned to their present position, "it worked. We're airborne."
"And still alive," Ressler's tone was slightly superior.
"Baby shit..." Samar gave the man a caustic look and yet another reminder of his own fallacies.
Ressler gagged yet again. Red knew instantly, exactly what Donald Ressler's Kryptonite was.
"See now, that wasn't so bad was it?" Red inquired.
"You did that on purpose," Liz accused, "Silas didn't even say anything, did he!"
"He did." Dembe assured.
"Can I have my hand back now?" Red eased the appendage out of Lizzy's death grip. "I would like to regain feeling in it before we reach Montana if at all possible."
Liz turned up her nose, "Very funny," her tone implied otherwise. "It's perfectly natural to be a little uneasy when flying." she stated. "There are national statistics on the subject, you know."
Everyone shared in the easy teasing of the woman except Moore, who sat apart from his contemporaries further back in the plane.
If anyone noted his anti-social behavior, they didn't remark on the matter.
Wilson kept continuously casting fretful glances to the man, even once or twice trying to draw him into the conversations.
Otherwise, the flight was uneventful.
The plane did not fall down from the sky... no one needed a parachute that Red noted.
After a few drinks, Liz even settled down enough to enjoy a short lived reunion with her friends and colleagues.
Every once in a while, Red would bring up the subject of baby shit just to see Ressler's reaction.
Stretching back into his seat, Red closed his eyes, relaxing into the warmed leather, "Lizzy..."
"Hmm?" she hummed distractedly.
"You'll let us know, of course..." he lay his hand on the arm rest in anticipation, "if you see anything on the wing of the plane?"
"Damn you, Reddington!" she bitched, leaning over his seat to look at the wing before clutching his hand like it was a life line.
Chuckling under his breath, Red squeezed her hand back.
All in all, it was a very nice flight.