Focal Point

by Daniel Davies

(Lizzington) A dangerous serial killer targets Elizabeth Keen as the newest Blacklister hits too close to home for Red Reddington. She must rely on the one person her instincts tell her she can trust. Liz finds herself inexplicably drawn closer to the only man capable of protecting her from this insidious new threat. (Mature Content)

108. A Long Days Journey

Author Note: And we all begin to understand why Ressler's love life is in the crapper...

---

Liz floated between the evasive state of slumber and twilight sleep. Something had awakened her but... what?

Her mind was aware of sounds drifting about but her physical being relished in the warmth provided by the down comforter surrounding her naked body.

She fought the ever encroaching wakefulness.

The room was pitch black which is how Red liked it for whatever reason.

Liz secretly believed it was because the darkness gave an advantage if any would be interloper should intrude.

Red's eyes were already adjusted. He could see where the other guy couldn't. Those precious few moments the eye took to adjust was all Red needed to gain the upper hand.

Or... maybe she was just becoming more paranoid in her old age. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

Liz could head the steady hum of the air conditioner. It was somehow soothing.

She allowed her lids to slide shut once more, snuggling down into the cushy softness of her bed.

Fanciful thoughts invaded her mind, pushing any real attempt at sleep aside, however.

A smile curved the woman's lips as memories surfaced.

A night under Red Reddington's care... in his bed... would bring a smile to any woman's lips, she thought ruefully.

After their romp in that damned SUV, Liz thought she would find her muscles stiff and sore.

That was not the case. Not one iota of tension or stress invaded her body.

Eyes softening, a well of happiness surged as details of what had transpired in that car emerged.

Playing with Red was oddly therapeutic. Not to mention, downright fun.

Opening herself to these odd little games had proven very fulfilling on a sexual plane.

Emotionally, she felt as if they were helping her to rewrite her own history, so to speak.

Replacing not so fond memories with certainly more acceptable ones. She didn't know before, such a thing was possible.

Liz had timidly approached Tom with the thought that perhaps they could broaden the parameters of their sexual activities a few times in the past.

She wasn't sure what she had in mind back then but something was lacking. She couldn't have put a name to it at the time.

Now, she realized, it had been the fact there was no true connection other than the sexual aspect.

Red made her feel so many other emotions. Good emotions... amazing emotions... deep abiding ones that shook her to her core.

Last night for instance, he had fallen so easily back into the game, setting the tone for an even more exciting adventure which was to emerge.

So into the proceedings was she at one point that Liz half expected if she and Red became to raucous in their lovemaking... that a bevy of drunken frat boys would burst into the room.

Red wove the scene so well, she was allowed the freedom to immerse herself.

She recalled muffling her cries of passion into a handy pillow, even biting Red's neckline on occasion when the joy of sex became too much not share with her lover.

Her lover found these incidents most amusing, of course. That he could move her to such heights.

That was okay though because she had moved him a couple times as...

The distinct sound of the door knob unlatching had those blue eyes flying open post-haste.

Liz's body tensed.

A slight crack allowed the light from the hallway to throw a slanted shaft along the opposite wall... the light shut off hastily, the door gently closing.

Light footsteps scuffed along the hard wood of the floors.

She was no longer alone in the room.

Liz's senses tingled but there was none of the alarm or uncertainty of danger lurking.

She waited, her ears pricked for anything which might alter that state.

She had not been aware of the running water from the bath before but then, the air conditioner had kicked off.

Someone was in the shower.

Liz processed quickly, her mind sorting rapidly through all possible scenarios.

She immediately ruled out Janet Leigh for the simple fact. If Janet were in the shower then the intruder into her private space would logically be Norman Bates.

Liz shook the morbid thought, wondering over the quirks of her mind. It was Francis' fault, she concluded after a moment.

Red was in the shower... ergo... who would dare enter her bedroom knowing the man's propensity for shooting first and asking questions later.

Dembe.

The footfalls were lighter than a man's. They had progressed to the bathroom door having made only one error in judgement so far.

A slight bump against the ottoman which protruded slightly out into any given walkway.

Liz pondered her options.

Samar Navabi felt more comfortable now. She even searched the nearby wall for a light switch.

The shower water told her of Liz's location, however.

At first, the agent had felt odd about simply entering someone's bedroom, even another woman's, but Aram's jet lag had kicked in and Ressler said to ask if Liz wouldn't mind filling a seat at the surveillance table until Aram's eyes were open completely to the world.

Not finding the light switch, Samar used the small slit of light from the bath door as her beacon.

She opened her mouth to announce her presence just as her hand pushed the door ajar.

Words halted in her throat, no sound escaped at the sight which greeted her unsuspecting eyes.

The dark gaze roamed the male body appreciatively, "Holy..." whispered awe filtered into the woman's tone as she voiced her opinion of the sight revealed, "...shit."

Liz bolted upright at the totally recognizable voice, blankets were tossed unceremoniously aside as she fumbled for her robe.

Grasping the satin material, she jerked it on rapidly, clutching the lapels frantically, her senses reeling from the turn of events.

"Samar!" she whispered raspingly, rushing forward, making her way around the bed in record time. "What are you–"

Samar had pulled the door to quietly, shushing Liz's approach.

"Stop." the older advised. "There is no way in hell we can't take this opportunity... be still–"

Liz gasped indignantly, "What are you–"

"Shh!" Samar hit the woman's forearm smartly. "You have got to see this!"

"I most certainly do not!" Liz was affronted for Red. She grasped the door handle securely over Samar's strong grip.

The women were so loud, Red sighed lightly inside the shower, shaking his head woefully.

He lathered his hands absently, tilting his head back and forth, his lips pulling into a grin.

"Jesus!" Samar blew out a breath from pursed lips. "Have you seen what that man is packing?"

"Stop it!" Liz flushed. Red was her property. Samar had no right...

"A friend would not let a friend not see it!" Samar was adamant, hitting Liz's hand aside, cracking the door slightly.

Dread filled Liz's gut as she tried in vain to wrestle the handle from the other, more determined individual.

Samar crook her head, signifying Liz should take a peak.

Liz shook her head vigorously but Samar urged her forward with a not so gentle nudge which almost cracked her cheek on the door facing.

Red stood under the hot spray, his warm skin glistening with soapy suds.

One large palm ran across his head, his arm bulging with his movement.

The muscles at his side pulled, tightening his stomach in response.

His back was turned away from them so full frontal was allowed.

He briskly soaped his neckline and shoulders absently, eyes closed to the hot wash of water wetting his face.

Liz watched the suds cascade down his frame.

She was vaguely aware of Samar's breath tickling the side of her cheek.

Red's thick fingers massaged the white foam into the wealth of hair on his chest, trailing down slowly to the tapered hair at his stomach.

The frothy rivulets skirted down his slightly parted thighs all the way to his sexy feet.

Liz swallowed hard at the sight of his fingers dancing idly into the light hair of his groin, over his long thick erection.

His sack hung heavily between toned thighs.

His bulging shaft bounced with his languid movements. Soapy water trickled down the ramrod length, the steady stream mimicking the thick cream of his release.

"If I had panties on..." Samar whispered sacredly, "they would be dropping by now."

Liz snapped the door shut, turning about, her expression more than harried.

"See?" Samar asked triumphantly, "I told you!"

"This was... unconscionable!" Liz was pretty sure of her facts, her hand fluttering to the closed door.

"Yeah." Samar totally agreed. "Want to see some mo–"

"No!" Liz snapped, smacking the woman's hand from the vicinity of the doorknob. "Be quiet!" she insisted. "He'll hear you!"

Red glanced down to his raging hard on.

Thank God he wasn't a particularly modest or shy man.

Having two women watch, one especially who had no desire to share... while you showered, had its benefits.

He stroked his cock from root to swollen tip, easing the ache.

He lowered his head, letting the river of water run down his body. His thoughts pleasant to say the least.

What a wonderful way to start the morning.

"Hell, he probably knows we were watching." Samar waved a dismissive hand. She flipped the light on, sighing lightly. "Why is it, all the good ones are taken... or on the Most Wanted list?"

Liz was still trying to regroup. She looked guiltily at the closed bathroom door.

"Did you see his dick?" Samar's lovely features were incredulous. "I would pay good money to have that thing plowing between my thighs."

Liz gasped audibly, "Samar!"

"Well, I wouldn't really pay." the agent rolled her eyes at the absurdity. "But I bet it would be worth it. It's evident Red Reddington knows how to treat a woman." she nodded amiably, crossing to sit on the ottoman.

"Sometimes he'll give a look that makes my cherry pop... if I had one." she chuckled. "I'll tell you... that man is packin' quiet a weapon and I'll wager he knows exactly how to use what God has given him." she arched her pretty brow. "You know, they say the more skilled they are with a firearm the more– "

"We shouldn't have done that" Liz wailed, interrupting the woman.

"You'll thank me later." Samar was relatively sure. "When the shock has worn off."

Liz sat on the bed, drained. She had to think of dead puppies... anything to get Red's cock out of her mind's eye.

That Samar had seen it as well left the woman feeling slightly ill inside.

Samar stood, her palms slapping her thighs absently. "Some woman will be a lucky recipient if she plays her cards right." her eyes were suddenly all too knowing as they rested on Liz's face.

"He's a one woman man you know... you did pick up on that, right?"

"What d-do you mean?"

"Oh, like any man, he'll fuck anything in a skirt but in the end..." Samar waved an airy hand, "he really will be true to only one female."

"How do you know... that?" Liz had arisen, her face flushed.

"You know it as well." Samar wasn't buying it. "...Has he taken you to his bed yet?"

Liz's mouth fell agape for such audacity.

"I have to wonder why not... if so?"

"Kill me now." Liz threw her hands out from her side, her own expression aghast. I expect this from Francis but not... one of my own kind.

Samar chuckled gently, "You need to blow off some steam... release some of that tension."

"He's my C.I." Liz pointed out. Or was she getting a feel for Samar's true reaction. Should she confide in the woman about the change in hers and Red's relationship?

"I didn't say fall in love with the guy." Samar glanced about. Had she brought those papers in here? "I said... fuck him."

Liz's eyes blinked with shock.

"Use him for your own pleasure." Samar tried again. "...Okay, Liz. When was the last time you got laid?"

"You're picking up American slang far too well for my peace of mi–"

"Tom?" Samar rolled her eyes. "While I'm sure he was a stud in the sack... get real, all right. You need a man not some little wanna-be, between your legs."

Liz shook her head, bewildered, "I haven't even had my coffee–"

"Reddington gets it." Samar continued undauntedly. "He would show you a good time without all the hassle. No muss, no fuss." The woman swiped her palms together to illustrate, "It's hard... in our line of work. Relationships fall to the wayside."

Samar fell silent for a beat, thinking on a few of her own 'failures'.

Liz watched the beautiful face feeling sadness descending but Samar quickly veiled her emotions.

"Reddington could be the perfect guy for you..." she walked to the door, hesitating, the dark eyes leveled and sincere. "As long as you keep your wits about you."

Samar opened the door, stepping outside into the hallway, "Ressler sent me to fetch you. Feel like an outing today?"

Liz once again secured her robe cinch as she followed Samar to the front of the house.

"I came through the garage." Samar motioned when Liz had traipsed the opposite way.

Liz's eyes had fallen on something of more interest for the moment, however.

"Did you hear me?" Samar wondered at the other woman's hesitation, gesturing to the back door she could now see across the kitchen expanse.

Liz turned questioning eyes to the waiting female.

Samar sensed something amiss, closing the few steps easily.

Liz stared at the pretty face, the disheveled hair of the bundle lying on the living room divan.

Samar thought quickly, "Dembe works fast." she hoped she covered well enough. "Thought she was interested in Reddington but any port in the storm, right?"

Liz shrugged mentally, "I guess so... isn't that what you were just advocating?"

Samar fell silent, "I'm not... judging." but that's exactly what she had been doing, she realized.

"Whether Red or Dembe," Liz saw an opportunity and took it, "I'm not either man's keeper." she managed a smile. "I'll get dressed."

Samar's cell rang, "Shit..." she fumbled for it in her pocket, "probably Ressler wondering what's taking me so long."

"I'll see you in a bit." Liz was careful not to disturb the sleeping beauty on the couch.

Samar picked up a stack of papers on her way out the back entrance, phone to ear.

Liz's eyes fell on the still slumbering face of the waitress from last night's dinner before returning to the room.

Once inside, she locked the door securely before crossing to the bath, her steps purposeful.

"Enjoy your peep show?" a very masculine chuckle greeted her arrival.

She cast a dark glare at the man, suddenly more upset that the man's eyes were closed and he had missed it.

"And you women calls us perverts."

"Why didn't you call a cop." she hung her robe on an available hook, sidling closer to the naked man. "Any hot water left?"

Something in her tone alerted him, not all was well. He opened his arms wide.

Lizzy tucked her body inside the welcoming embrace, snuggling lovingly, finding comfort in the man's erection which slid across her stomach easily.

Her quietness alerted him to her mood. He could only guess at what had transpired.

"I rate only fuck-buddy status in Samar's world, huh." he threw out his hypothesis.

Liz lifted sad eyes which rapidly rimmed with unshed tears.

Red's heart ached for the woman. He had hoped Samar might surprise him but...

"I thought she would understand." Liz lay her head back on his shoulder.

"Shh..." he soothed, kissing the top of her wavy strands. The water glistened in the dark silk.

He gently massaged her back and shoulders, "We are so much more, Elizabeth." he reminded. "Isn't that all that should matter?"

His eyes closed painfully, the small head laying against him nodded dejectedly.

"Give them time, baby." he suggested. "They might come around in the end." he wasn't sure if he believed the words or not, human nature being what it was...

"Dembe, Francis...Silas," Liz sniffed, "they accept us." she lifted a hopeful stare. "It's wonderful but you're right. I just need this." she returned to his arms. "Your support... the comfort you give."

"And hopefully," he lifted her chin to stare into those blue depths, "my love?"

She smiled, happy again. Liz closed her eyes, relief flooding her very soul.

Yes, she had exactly what she needed here... within the sphere of Red Reddington's arms.

Her fingers gently traced the bulging veins of his penis. The object had caught and held her attention for many seconds now.

The light touch caused the turgid shaft to jerk.

She felt the man tense.

"Lizzy, this is probably," he cursed the nuisance which was his raging libido, "not the best time to..." his lips compressed, "I'm perfectly content to simply remain as we are."

Lifting to her toes, her mouth gently silenced any protests he could make, "We're more than that." she whispered against his lips.

Red sensed her meaning. She needed the emotional connection. The thing that only they could share.

He sighed, all the stress of the last decision fading away, feeling her slowly stroke him, building the fire that would soon consume them both.

His lips trailed along the silk of her neckline, drinking in the fragrance he loved so well.

"I love you." he whispered then abruptly moved, his powerful arms lifting her slight weight, his body pressing hers into the heated wall of the shower stall.

---

Red absently followed Elizabeth down the hallway, searching for his phone.

"Would you have a plausible explanation," she stepped aside, waving a gracious hand, "for... this?"

"Jealousy becomes you." he smiled slowly, sensing her meaning.

Liz snubbed him, pushing past him into the kitchen, "You are so amusing... and diluted."

Red's smile widened, "Greg called last night needing a–"

"I didn't hear your phone ring." she halted her perusal of K-cups for the coffee machine, her eyes suspicious.

"You were..." he grimaced sympathetically, pausing for effect, "ever so tired after our late night... exertions."

Liz flushed, ignoring his implication. She crossed to drop the pod into the coffee machine

Red took the veiled slight in stride, preparing his personal blend with the air of an aristocrat.

"Business reared its ugly head. He didn't want her in harm's way." Red had crooked his head to the subject matter now at hand.

The little waitress stirred groggily at the voices drifting from the kitchen, nothing more.

"More likely," Liz watched the dark liquid drop merrily into her cup, her mood not so cheery, "he didn't want her making a pass at any and all available associates."

Red's grin widened, "You're in a surly mood this morning." he sidled up behind the woman, careful not to touch her. He leaned ever so close, his tone holding just the right amount of sexual innuendo. "...I like it."

Liz threw him a 'surly' look but inside, she was smiling.

She crooked her head, the brows lifting imperiously, "Are you supposed to drive her home?"

"Would you mind if I did?" he pressed his luck.

"Would you like your dick cut off with a butter knife?"

"I'm very turned on right now." the man seemed surprised by the fact. He watched the woman sip her coffee, the blue eyes losing none of the frost of combat. "Greg is coming by this morning to..."

A quiet knock interrupted the explanation.

Red's hand went instantly to his weapon. Elizabeth turned her head to the back door, "Do they knock politely now?"

"...Some." Red's tone was softly menacing as was his eyes until...

"Intruder alert." Greg Forester pushed his head through the door, a grin on the handsome face.

He glanced at Red's stance, "It's always safer to announce one's arrival around the likes of him." he shouldered on through the door, sauntering forward.

"Porch pirates proclaiming their presence." Red beckoned the man forward. "How polite."

"Oh, please," Greg looked covetously at the coffee cup in Liz's hand, "I passed my plundering porch pirate phase back in prep-school."

Liz chuckled, "Ordinary thieves take on terrible tongue twisters." she mused.

"Nothing ordinary about me, Elizabeth." Greg assured. "Is that coffee free or do I have to plunder it?"

"Pilfer it," Red corrected handing over a cup, "I believe is the correct terminology."

"God's own elixir." Greg closed his eyes having drank the strong, hearty brew. "All's right with the world." he sighed happily.

He checked on the woman who still slept peacefully in the living area. The tiny bundle was visible from the large cut-out bar area.

"Was my little kitten any trouble last night?"

Red noted Lizzy's flush of embarrassment. The way Greg had said the pet name held a wealth of meaning.

Liz busied herself, fumbling with bread for the toaster.

"Not at all." Red covered the awkwardness. "Your playtime probably wore her out." he shared the last with the man alone, his eyes twinkling.

Red understood young lust. There were times of late he found himself loathe to leave his own playmate.

"So much to play with," Greg nodded, sotto voce, "so little time."

Red smiled, "You should tarry a bit. Take a shower, wake up before you drive back."

Greg ran a hand over his growth of beard, "These late night affiliations are killing me," he grumbled, "I'm getting too old, Red."

"For the work," Red questioned, "or play time with her?"

Greg spared the man a sardonic glance.

Red chuckled, "Everything will look better after a hot shower." he slapped the man on the shoulder.

Greg was unconsciously checking with Liz.

She smiled warmly at the man, "You'll feel human again."

"...That sounds really wonderful actually." Greg kneaded his nape hard.

"Mi ducha es su ducha." Red waved a hand toward the master bedroom.

"Oh, hell." Greg's shoulders slumped. "I forgot. I have to get back and approve the manifest."

He dropped his forehead begrudgingly, "I didn't want to make a nuisance of ourselves and all the product had not as yet been–"

"Do you have the list with you?" Red offered. "I'll meet with the distributors and phone the count as soon as it's in for your approval."

"Oh, man." Greg was beaming. "I would owe you big time, Red. I'd kill for an hour to shake the cobwebs."

"Consider it done."

"You guys are the best" Liz was included in the gesture. "Really."

She smiled at Red, surprised to be taken into account by the other man, truth told.

"I have to go... see Samar." she reminded Red. "You'll have the house to yourself after a few minutes." she held up her toast and jelly.

"Give me the keys." Red waggled his fingers. "I'll get the invoices. You relax for a while."

"You don't have to twist my arm." Greg was out of the kitchen in record time. "Thank you again, Elizabeth... for extending such hospitality to virtual strangers."

"Any friend of, Red's..." she shrugged graciously. "Extra towels are in the linen closet."

"This is so kind of you." Greg made a discrete exit.

Red chuckled, sitting his coffee cup down, "Are you truly okay with this?"

"Oh, sure." the woman shrugged. "I'll get finished here and head on over to Ressler and the guys."

"I'll leave–"

"No, you will not leave Dembe." she headed him off at the pass. "You'll not walk into that meeting without back-up."

"These are friendlies, baby." he chuckled.

"Friendlies or not," she put her foot down. "Ressler can come fetch me if he wants me that badly... or I can drive."

"It's not that." Red didn't want her driving, but it was just a short distance. "You're unprotected."

"Greg is here. Ressler is there." she pointed.

Red hesitated.

"I'll only be a few minutes, Red." she exasperated. "I just have to get a few files and my computer."

"I'll fetch your computer." Red held up a hand. "Greg is back there."

"Well, okay." she didn't want any more surprise unveilings today, so she relented.

Red came back in seconds, "Promise me... right over to the team."

"Hand to God." she promised.

Still, he hesitated.

"...Really?" she questioned. "Are your spidey senses tingling?"

"No, and that's what's bothering me." he grumbled.

"Go." she pointed, her manner no-nonsense.

Red leaned, kissing her soundly, "I'm going to buy you a Dominatrix present."

"Already have one." she smiled sweetly up at him. "I borrowed it from Mr. Kaplan." she waggled her brows suggestively. "It's latex." she smiled cheekily. "Because everyone should practice safe sex."

"I won't be gone long." he chuckled his amusement. "See if you can stay out of trouble for the duration, hum?"

"Back at ya."

---

Samar had tried to reason it all out. Tried to see it from all sides but in the end her allegiance to one of her own kind had won out.

She was pissed, pure and simple.

Pissed at the way of things... at the world in general.

She didn't particularly care who knew.

The woman shut the door behind her with a bang, entering the ill-lit area, her eyes blinking, adjusting from the bright sunlight outside.

Ressler started upright in his seat, snapping alert.

Aram struggled from his half-asleep state as well, both seeking out the cause of their disturbance.

"What the... hell?" Ressler demanded just barely managing to catch the equipment sent his way.

Samar plopped down opposite him in the chair provided, arms folded over her chest.

She eyed the other occupants of the room belligerently, the long tresses shaking ominously, the dark eyes flashing fire.

"What's your problem?" Ressler wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Why are men so stupid?" she demanded an answer, rising angrily.

Both 'men' exchanged puzzled glances.

"Navabi... I got maybe an hour's sleep last night. I'm not really in the mood for a philosophical chat or twenty-questions."

She sent him a death glare.

"You want to cut to the chase here?" he tried a more reasonable approach.

"Reddington was supposed to be smarter than most of his species." Samar ranted for Liz's sake. "Turns out... he's just as stupid as all the rest."

Ressler scratched a palm over his head, his own irritation rising.

"I've never thought of Mr. Reddington as... stupid." Aram differed to disagree.

"Oh, really?" Navabi turned on a dime. "Then why did he bring his little fuck toy home with him last night?"

Aram's face ashened. First, for the vulgarity coming from such a voluptuous mouth and second, "The waitress?"

Ressler's head fell back. It was beginning to throb, "Oh, hell... not that."

Samar's interest was immediate and focused, "You knew?" she accused. "And you didn't tell me?!"

"Why would I tell you?" was a mystery to Ressler clearly. "Hell, I didn't even want to know myself!"

The silence in the room was deafening.

"I don't understand," Samar slumped back down in her chair, the conversation sapping her strength, "I thought... hell, we all thought..."

She checked with her contemporaries, "Didn't we?"

"That Mr. Reddington wanted to get in Agent Keen's pants?" Aram offered meekly.

"Why are we even having this conversation?" Ressler pleaded his cause.

"Yes!" Samar pointed exactingly to the computer geek.

"But, isn't that just the ruse they are perpetrating?" Aram was confused now.

"Didn't you sense it was more?" Samar could not believe men were so blind and yet... if that were the case... "Then why did he bring that Jezebel home last night?"

"Does Jezebel really apply here?" Aram questioned.

"Trollop?" Samar offered cheerfully.

"It's none of our business." Ressler practically yelled his belief.

"I'm completely thrown me on this one." Samar stated. "I'm beginning to doubt my own judgement."

"Well, maybe we should." Aram agreed hastily. "We don't know if the young lady is a... tramp, do we?"

"She said, trollop." Donald reminded uneasy with the adjective.

"We have a pretty good idea." Samar folded her arms, then sighed. "Maybe I am being a little harsh." she shrugged. "Why am I bitching about her?" she scowled. "Reddington's the whore."

"What?" Ressler's brow furrowed. "Did you expect Reddington to remain celibate for a long shot that might never materialize?" the man dropped his forehead against his palm, pressing hard into the ache, "What the hell am I even saying?"

"...No." Samar sighed reluctantly. "...I feel like an idiot now."

Ressler's scowl increased, "And why would you feel that?"

"Because I was standing there, foot-in-mouth, trying to convince Liz to take Reddington on as her fuck-buddy." Samar explained in an overly polite manner.

"You did... what?" Ressler questioned the woman's sanity.

Samar continued, "All the while, not knowing Reddington's little..."

"Trollop?" Aram supplied helpfully.

"Floozy," Samar corrected with a smirk, "was lying there, half-naked on the couch after a night of God-knows-what."

Unwarranted visions flashed in Ressler's mind's eye, "God, don't bring that up."

Samar glanced at him suspiciously, "What does that mean?" she demanded.

Ressler hesitated, then leaned closer, "Look, it's none of our business of course, but..."

Aram was jerked back by his head set. He had slid too close to the hastily lowered voice Ressler adopted.

He rid himself of the nuisance hastily, getting as close as possible to the ensuing conversation.

Ressler shared his late night encounter, "So I rounded the corner just in time to catch them..."

"In flagrante delicto?" Aram murmured his shock.

"I drew my weapon on them." Ressler wanted his side of the sordid tale told before Reddington's came out.

"You are such a prude." Samar tsked.

"How the hell was I supposed to know?" Ressler defended himself. "I heard a woman... she sounded in distress."

Samar lifted a brow, "Maybe she was... if you had seen Reddington's cock–"

Aram's gasp was more than audible.

"And when the hell have you ever seen his cock?" Ressler demanded to know.

Samar rolled expressive eyes, "This morning... in the shower."

Aram gasped... louder.

"Not with me." Samar dismissed the misconception. "He was alone."

Ressler's mind was boggling, his expression said as much.

"Oh, don't even!" Samar refused to live under a double standard. "As if you two perverts wouldn't grab a chance to see me of Keen naked."

Aram blushed heatedly.

Ressler's scowl increased.

"Don't judge me because Liz was there too, right alongside me," Samar informed the self-righteous bastards. "Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes."

"The other agents call her that... not me." Ressler bristled. "I used to knock the hell out of them for it but then I wondered, why?" he spread his hands out to Aram.

Aram shrugged helplessly, "It really isn't a derogatory term."

"Not in this day and age." Ressler agreed.

"I'm sorry I said that," Samar digressed, "...about Liz." she grimaced. "You two just make me so crazy, that's all." she cast them both a look. "It's your fault."

Ressler threw up his hands.

"Well..." Samar second-guessed herself, yet again. "Maybe it was my fault for insisting she take a peek but come on," she pleaded her cause, "the man is hung like–"

Ressler arose post-haste, "Shut it! No more please, for the love of God!"

Samar's mouth snapped shut... for all of two seconds, "You're just jealous."

Ressler drew up short, narrowing his eyes, "Why should I be jealous." he was beside himself. "How do you know I'm not hung like a... whatever it was you think he's hung like?"

Samar cocked her head, checking him out, "...Are you?"

"I'm just saying... don't assume." Ressler turned on his heel, barking back the words.

Aram was biting his thumb anxiously, "Can't we all just get along?"

Both combatants spared him a vexed glance.

A shoe pounding on the upstairs bedroom floor let them know, the discussion was getting a little loud.

Ressler lowered his voice, "What is it?" he snipped. "That time of the month."

Aram closed his eyes, dread filling his mind for such a callous statement.

"Is that the best you got?" Samar's hackles rose. "I haven't heard that before."

Ressler immediately regretted his statement, "I'm sorry," he quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, Navabi. That was..."

The woman read his sincerity, calming as well.

"I'm sorry," Ressler couldn't look her in the eye for a moment. He felt horrible to have stooped to the level of his contemporaries.

The silence was a reprieve for all concerned.

"...Look," Ressler sought the dark eyes out finally, "I know you're just defending your friend. I got that."

Samar settled even more so, her look a rather sheepish one.

"My senses were telling me the same thing at first," the agent reasoned, "but with all that's gone down," he gestured, "I guess we were wrong, right?"

Samar took a deep breath.

"Reddington knows all the pitfalls that relationship might entail." Ressler continued. "He's not stupid."

"By any means." Aram agreed.

"If he has Keen's best interest at heart, wouldn't it be better if they were not involved?" Ressler reasoned. "Really?"

"You didn't see her face." Samar sulked. "When she saw that... woman on the couch."

"To involve herself with Reddington is wrong, on so many levels and you know it." Donald reminded all present.

"We aren't normal people." Samar countered. "To have a 'normal' life is just not in the cards for us."

"Yeah but you're not talking about hooking Keen up with a prospective date off Tinder." Ressler tried logic and reason.

"Like the men on Tinder are so much better," Samar stated her opinion. "At least we know Reddington won't kill her." she changed her tactics. "It's so hard to meet a good, decent person, Donald."

"Are we still talking about Red Reddington here?" the man was flabbergasted.

"Grow the hell up." Samar's anger was returning. "For the most part, he is good and decent."

"Unless you cross him." Donald reminded.

"In my world," Samar pointed out, "that would make him a revered leader of men."

Donald spread his hands helplessly. He couldn't argue with her logic. Samar came from a different world. Different values, different beliefs.

"Maybe Agent Keen isn't aware of Mr. Reddington's interest?" Aram offered a suggestion. "If... there is 'interest' involved here, I mean."

Samar lowered the binoculars. She had been scrutinizing Lawford's domain meticulously.

"Well, it's true." Ressler laughed hollowly. "Sometimes she's not the sharpest tool in the shed."

Samar opened her mouth to defend and criticize.

"Hear me out." Ressler held up his hand in the universal 'peace' sign. "Take Tom Keen... how many times did she have to be hit over the head before finally kicking him to the curb?"

"She is young and hopeful for the world." Samar reminded.

Aram nodded his agreement.

"Okay, every case we go on..." Ressler ticked off his reasons on his fingers, "Reddington forewarns of all the dangers and pitfalls..."

Samar waited patiently for once, binoculars dangling in idle hands.

"She rushes in, gung-ho to do her thing, thinking she knows more than a seasoned criminal on how to handle any given matter." Donald pointed out.

"Like you, you mean?" Samar batter languid eyes at the man.

"All right yeah but... I'm a guy."

Samar took no offense smart enough to know the statement actually held merit for some occasions... she was loathe to admit.

She was a highly trained operative and several times a larger foe had landed her on her ass with a well-placed fist to the face.

Donald, on the other hand, could take a punch... he'd had so many delivered in his time as an agent, they seemed to bounce right off him. Or at the very least, he was used to his brain rattling about. She smiled to herself at the thought.

"No offense meant." Donald was quick to point out.

"None taken." Samar bowed her head in deference.

"My point is..." Ressler had almost forgotten his point, "Reddington may have been smacking her in the face with clues he was 'into her', metaphorically speaking..." the man powered his laptop up, "say our instincts were right, of course."

"Which has not been proven," Aram stated emphatically.

"...Just for argument's sake," Ressler wasn't ready to concede either way on the sordid subject, in truth, "maybe everything he's tried has zinged right past Liz's face?"

"Then he would lay his cards on the table." Samar disagreed. "Say it outright."

"Okay," Donald shrugged. "If that's the case, the only thing we can assume is... Keen didn't go for it."

"Which would explain Mr. Reddington's understandable dalliance with this young, 'willing' lady."

All pondered the evidence set before them.

"Maybe he's simply attempting to regain Agent Keen's attention."

"By fucking another woman?" Samar shifted a wary stare.

"Do you have to be so crude?" Aram's shaft lengthened each and every time the lovely agent spoke so freely.

"I thought you liked it?" Samar smiled sweetly her eyes dropping meaningfully.

"God, don't you two start." Ressler groaned.

Aram flushed, fumbling with his headset. All thumbs suddenly.

"Reddington is a very persuasive man." Samar sensed as much. "Liz wouldn't stand a chance against him if he truly wanted to stake a claim."

"Says you." Donald disagreed entirely.

Samar shrugged.

"I think, whatever has gone down between them is over and done." the man continued. "Reddington was riding..." he trailed off.

Aram looked innocently, waiting.

Samar was already calculating and sorting, "Was... what?"

"Nothing." Donald abruptly changed subjects. "We have work to do."

"Reddington was... what?" Samar insisted, stepping closer. "Why are you so certain everything is over and done?"

Ressler knew the woman would not let his slip pass by unchallenged. "It's a personal thing Reddington would not like advertised, okay?"

Samar hesitated, fiddling with the straps of the spyglasses, "So, it's your considered opinion Reddington has moved on."

A weight settled in Ressler's chest but he wasn't sure why the prospect disagreed with him, "Yes."

But after what he witnessed last night between the waitress and Reddington, he could draw no other conclusions.

"...Then he's just as dumb as the rest of his gender." Samar sighed heavily, returning to her busy work. "Just as I originally thought."

Ressler thankfully let the matter ebb.

Aram grimaced to be lumped into the general consensus but he too, went back to his task, grateful the episode hadn't blossomed into out-and-out war.

---

Liz had meant to vacate the cabin instantly but a phone call from home delayed the departure.

Nora had called to share an amusing incident between Keres, the cat, and Hudson.

A fight ensued when Hudson tried, unsuccessfully, to confiscate Keres' favorite cat-nip toy.

General confusion and chaos ensued with hilarious results.

It was so good to hear Nora's voice. Liz hadn't realized how much she missed home and her friends there.

The guards had been very helpful in moving furniture and lugging boxes to the downstairs apartment allowing Nora to settle into her new domain.

Hastily finishing her toast and coffee, Liz hurried along, passing through the French doors.

It was such a lovely day, she walked outside while visiting on the phone.

Her footfalls hesitated.

The house was quiet.

How odd. It felt weird. Not bad weird just...

She had become so accustomed to Nora puttering in the kitchen. Sounds of laughter from passing guards. The gruff bitching of Silas' deep timbre over any and all perceived grievances.

Comfort was found in those sounds. Liz loved those sounds.

To think, at one time, she found them intrusive, unbearable even. Resented what she thought they represented.

What a fool she had been.

Red never thought her incapable. He only supplied back up in rough, uncertain moments.

He surrounded her with capable, quality people whom she had grown to care for deeply.

For all Silas' rough, sarcastic exterior... she felt so safe when he was about. Most of the guards held some quirky, amusing traits she found likable, endearing even.

And then there was Nora. Precious, patient Nora. The quintessential mother figure Liz secretly longed for her entire life.

Yes, the sounds that filled a house... a home, meant so much especially if they were absent.

Liz sat her cup and saucer in the sink, glancing fruitlessly about for her purse.

Where the hell had she dropped it last night? Odd, where once before, because it held her weapon and badge, the damned thing was attached to her hip.

Things which once permeated her life were almost second thoughts now.

Her eyes fell on the computer bag Red fetched earlier for her.

What the hell did it all mean? Was she losing herself in the world created for her and if so... it didn't seem to matter all that much.

She was happy, clear and simple.

Her footfalls were light and carefree as she made her way to the master bedroom. Even the boot didn't aggravate her as it usually did.

A male voice pulled her up short, her first instinct was to panic.

She was sans weapon... and–

"I didn't tell you to stop." the low, melodious murmur did not sound particularly menacing, however.

In fact, it sounded... contented and ever so mellow.

"I can't find it in me to... reprimand you."

Liz stared at the half-cracked door facing, rapidly weighing her options.

Should she back off quickly, make a hasty retreat or–

"Oh, but... you so love to be reprimanded," the gruff tone altered to a hoarse whisper, "...don't you?"

A soulful moan accompanied the proclamation.

A very feminine whimper followed.

Elizabeth startled visibly, eyes widened with shock.

"You have been such a good little kitten, however..."

Liz finally recognized the insatiable way in which that word was stated.

That... word.

"You can do better than that." Greg Forester's tone was provocatively silky in nature. "Such a warm little mouth..."

Elizabeth's mouth fell open for her senses were alerting her far before her brain, as to what was going on behind that half-closed door.

Liz's first instinct was to sneak stealthily away, retrace her steps but something perverse held her stationary.

"You want my cream, kitten..." he coaxed.

A soft whispering moan met Liz's ears.

"Then work harder..." Greg persuaded artfully.

Another contented sigh followed.

Liz hesitated, inching forward enough to peek through the crack in the frame.

Her hand came up instantly to her mouth, and she barely stifled a gasp.

She could see a shadow of a man, a very... naked one. His thighs were thick and muscular.

A woman was on all fours before him, attending to a very prominent erection.

Brown hair obscured the female's face until gentle fingers moved the long curls aside.

Greg bunched the dark strands in his fist when she suckled the tip.

"...Yes." the man chuckled hoarsely, hissing his delight. "Suckle me with that little tongue."

Liz's face flushed fully, and she drew back hastily, cheeks ablaze.

That's what one got when one eavesdropped, she supposed.

She swallowed hard, fighting her blush determined to make a gracious retreat if only to salvage some of her dignity.

"You do me so well, little one."

The husky statement stopped Liz in her tracks much to her chagrin.

"You love my cock in your mouth?"

Liz's hand flew to her red cheeks.

"I know just how much, but I guess I can't fault you." Greg was literally petting his little playmate. "I very much enjoy licking my kitten's pussy... it tastes so sweet."

Liz's hands went in the air. On that less than cryptic note... she was more than determined to vacate.

My God. She had been reduced to nothing more than a peeping Tom!

"Come here..."

Liz's eyes flew to the door facing.

"Daddy will give you all the cream you want..." he soothed, "but... only my way."

Liz covered her ears, her brain screaming...

Go... Leave... Do not stay here!

Greg growled his delight, "You want daddy's cock inside your hot pussy, don't you."

The woman seemed more than eager for such an eventuality.

He pulled the woman upright, pulling her curvaceous frame flush against his muscled body, kissing the mouth that had given him so much pleasure.

"Let daddy get his favorite pussy all nice and wet for his cock," he growled against the woman's pouty mouth.

The hand cupping the woman's bottom smartly popped the giving flesh.

Liz startled at the unexpected action and more so, the reaction.

The woman gasped even as she melted further into the man's embrace. His large palm soothed the love tap, rubbing across her cheeks tenderly.

His thick fingers slid into the space between her thighs, kneading the soft skin before delivering another concentrated, yet oddly sensual spank to the lower curvature of her ass.

Liz grimaced, turning about, blindly searching for a way out of the predicament she had gotten herself into... running instead into–

Red Reddington's hard chest.

Steady hands righted her, amused eyes staring down at Liz's astonished ones.

He placed a cautionary finger to his lips.

Liz's blush was back in full force. She pushed determinedly, trying to turn the man about that they could leave this horribly private place.

Red resisted, however, holding tightly to prevent her escape.

He craned his neck, watching the show taking place.

Liz refused to look, decorum suddenly a must.

"Oh..." Greg was beyond hearing or caring about any intrusions at this stage.

His large hands cupped the woman's petite bottom, his fingers strategically placed to elicit a most appreciative groan of acquiescence.

"Look how anxious my kitten is... for her gift."

Red grinned slowly watching Greg stroking his cock along the sodden folds of his lover's vaginal area.

"But this time..." Greg's tone hardened, "I want something in return, Alison."

The young girl whimpered for the unexpected delay, "I'll obey you, daddy. Please... please..."

The pleading sounded far too real to Liz's ears. She pulled at her captured arm throwing Red a meaningful 'look'.

"Give me your cock..." Alison was aching, it was clear, "I need it so much."

"I'll give it to you..." Greg was calm and firm, "but you must give me something I want."

"Anything!" Alison wiggled about fretfully, "...Anything."

The woman rolled her hips, pressing her center into the rigid flesh of his penis.

Red's brow lifted, Greg was handling the matter well in his opinion.

Greg pulled the condom free, reinserting his cock into a more than willing receptacle.

"This time..." Greg was in total control, "when I give you my cream... you take it and keep it safe and warm."

Alison's head fell back, her back arching as Greg slid further into her willing body, "Daddy..." she moaned piteously.

"What's it going to be, Alison?" Greg's jaw pulsed, his palm running a searing path between the woman's full breasts.

"...No..." she reached for the man, "Not now... later..."

Red held a hand when Liz would have responded to the urgent denial.

"Then..." Greg removed his shaft completely, "we can't do this." he took a deep breath, releasing it shakily. "Don't think any other man can give you what I can... will play with you just how you want... you already tested that hypothesis. What did it get you?"

"B-But..."

"I want you to give me a little kitten of our very own, baby." Greg rubbed enticingly up against the hot, ripe body awaiting his pleasure.

"I want that more than anything," he stressed. "We'll make a new... more binding contract but only this time, on my terms."

Red's brow arched with understanding, a smile pulling at the man's lips.

"...No." Alison pouted.

Greg crawled over the woman, his shaft laying perfectly against the swollen flesh.

The woman backed away only to be caught in his sure grasp. The man settled his weight into the small body, his hand cupping the small head in his large palm.

"Daddy does not like that word." Greg husked.

Alison panted shakily, her mouth straining to touch his.

"Say, yes..." his lips grazed the plump mouth, teasing the heightened flesh.

His hand slid the length of her body, rolling them slightly. His wrist flicked, delivering another smart pop across Alison's ass cheeks.

It was all Red could do to hold Liz back.

"Say it..." Greg rasped roughly, "say, yes, Alison."

Tightening her arms about the man's shoulders, Alison nodded against his neck furiously, "Yes, daddy..." she was more than a willing victim suddenly, "...Y-Yes, Greg..." she amended.

Liz stopped her struggles, her senses reeling for the more than hasty capitulation on Alison's part, her mouth falling agape.

Red grinned down at her.

She jerked away indignantly, a mix of emotions flooding her.

"Baby..." Greg was just as suddenly all caring and warm and loving. "I love you so much. You drive me crazy at times." he peppered her mouth with lingering kisses. "I want you so desperately."

Red closed the door quietly, motioning.

Liz gladly made her escape from the incredibly claustrophobic area.

"I know how that looke–"

"Ressler called." he halted the woman's words. "There has been a development."

"Fine, but I want to explain–"

"Nothing to explain." he shrugged. "We should go."

He had walked gathering her computer bag and... purse which hung unobtrusively on the back of a dining room chair.

"I don't want you thinking..." she was becoming frustrated, "that I deliberately–"

"We'll talk..."

His tone was much as Greg's suddenly and the way his eyes looked at her, made Liz all weak and compliant inside.

"...Rest assured," the man continued, "but... it's a conversation that may take hours."

Liz feebly accepted her bag, her thoughts swirling chaotically.

"I don't want any interruptions..." he tilted his head, his eyes deepening considerably, "... none what-so-ever."

---

Liz fidgeted this way and that in her seat.

Red's amusement over her supposed predicament increased.

She kept looking at the back of Dembe's head, a concerned scowl tracing the pretty brow.

Did she think the man could read her guilty thoughts?

Red glanced out the window. The second cabin was easing up on his right.

"Dembe," Red's eyes met the other man's in the rear-view mirror, "tell me again why I insist upon dealing with the Canadians?"

"One... they have easy access to Russian Vodka." Dembe did not miss a beat. "Two... their hockey teams are the best in the world."

Red's idle talk eased Elizabeth's mood, he noted. "Again..." he shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs, "this is incentive, why?"

"First, you have a great distaste for the swill other countries produce." Dembe iterated verbatim, Red realized. "And secondly, when you place a bet on any given team your chances of winning are highly increased."

"Well, I do so love to win."

"You are very competitive." Dembe agreed.

"Still," Red sighed heavily, "it doesn't seem enough."

"Did the meeting not go well this morning?" Liz was glad to stop the harried thought of her time spent, spying on Greg Forester and the man's little kitten.

"Well enough." Red shrugged. "I just detest stupidity in all its radiant forms."

"And half rate hooch," Dembe drawled.

Liz was stymied, "The shipment was bad?"

"Good booze," Red corrected, "incredibly inept handlers. I'll inform Greg of the issues..." he turned a lazy stare Liz's way, "later... after he's finished with his current project."

Liz flushed, averting her eyes.

Red held his grin, "You are a constant delight to me, Elizabeth. Have I told you so?"

She sought him out, "You mean, you like poking fun at me." she corrected moodily.

"I mean," he leaned, kissing her temple lovingly, "It's these little moments I live for these days."

His tone and gaze was so tender, Liz's annoyance slipped into oblivion.

"How the hell I survived without them before," the man touched her ear, his fingers tracing the small shell. He watched his progress with rapt attention, "...escapes me."

"Your moods have definitely improved for the better." Dembe nodded regally.

"My moods were fine." Red shifted a languid stare.

"They were not." Dembe obviously disagreed.

"I love you, Elizabeth." Red's tone caressed her. "Not so sure about you, Dembe."

"Is it my association with your head guard?" Dembe mused thoughtfully. "Which is to blame."

"Then stop 'associating' with him." Red suggested. He slapped his hands on his thighs.

Liz jumped slightly at the sound, so lost in her other more pressing thoughts.

Red ignored the action, "All right, let's recap events to this stage."

He wasn't sure if Lizzy even heard most of the information he supplied on the first leg of their journey over.

"Michael Benton's son, Scott and his wife, Sarah... have been clearly targeted by some, as yet, unknown assailant."

"A sad state of affairs." Dembe turned his head, listening intently. "One which must be rectified immediately."

"We are on the same page." Red approved. He appreciated the slow trek Dembe had taken to reach the other cabin.

These little moments with Elizabeth by his side often erased the vexations of his day.

"Alert Silas to be on standby," Red asked more than told. "We may need assistance on this one."

"What will you tell Agent Ressler?"

Liz was interested as well. Red's priorities had shifted.

Scott Benton had made his own bed with his chosen career but the man's son and wife were innocent parties in the debacle. That they had been targeted and were now in danger, trumped Lawford's antics and anything which came with it.

Ressler had to understand, surely.

"Donald already knows." Red supplied. "...You grab the bags, I'll get the gimp." he directed to Dembe.

Liz's mouth tightened for the slight, then she giggled. She slid her hand into Red's extended one. He vacated the car and stood now, eyes twinkling with her supposed annoyance.

Dembe came about the car, "No, I meant... will we take the time to wrap up the problem here before leaving for Chicago?"

"There is no time for that." Red had already decided. "And Agent Ressler realizes as much. We will send assistance in the way of manpower and information." Red had long since dreaded that course of action.

Moments later, they entered the house to find Samar and Aram at their posts.

Aram had looked better, but he was gamely hanging in, headphones snuggly in place.

Ressler nodded a silent greeting handing over the discussed photos.

Reddington's brow furrowed as he perused the shots.

"Michael Benton received these early this morning." the agent explained. "They were taken last night at a charity dinner attended by Scott and his wife."

Red studied the pictures critically for a beat before handing them over to Dembe.

"If you will have Silas compare those with the ones taken at Elizabeth's birthday dinner, I would be appreciative."

Dembe immediately tackled the problem, turning aside.

"What has one to do with the other?" both Samar and Liz were puzzled.

Samar held one listening device to a free ear while listening to the ensuing conversation in the room, her eyes communicating with Liz.

Dembe held his phone aloft, "He wishes to speak with you."

Red obediently took the phone, waiting patiently for once, "Did you receive the pictures?"

"You have my hopes up." Silas replied. "Are they dirty, because if so... I'm there."

"Sorry to disappoint." Red's mouth quirked with amusement. "Did they come through?"

"Do you even know the definition of patience?"

"I was under the impression this fantastical age of technology negated the need."

"It hasn't even been a minute." Silas pointed out. "Liz is a bad influence on you... in that regard."

"I want you to assemble a team and get them to Chicago post haste."

"I hate flying coach." Silas grumbled.

"I didn't say you, I said 'a team'." Red reiterated. "They are to secure D.A Benton's wife and her child."

"Ah." Silas nodded his dawning understanding.

"Then locate Hunter Gaines and secure him as well until I arrive."

"Hunter Gaines." Silas' brow lifted, nothing more at the name mentioned but even that signified much to anyone who knew the guard well. "Hang ten, pictures are arriving."

Red looked over the room absently. Lizzy had found a seat, earphones already attached to her head.

Ressler was at the window binoculars lifted. Dembe sat quietly aside in a convenient chair, Sudoku book in hand.

"Okay, I pulled up the shots of Liz at the diner." Silas had them displayed on another computer at his desk. "...Looks like Gaines' signature trademark except–" he traced the targets which had been marked on Liz's head with a careful finger.

Silas' brow furrowed, "This third one..." he studied thoroughly, "is marked with an 'X'." the guard murmured. "Two shooters?"

"A protégé?" Red threw out the possibility.

"We won't know until we have Gaines to ask him," Silas stated quietly.

The silence was a static one. "Get the team to Chicago." Red snapped. "I want Hunter found."

"Going to Chicago will take–"

"Take Antonio's jet." he glanced fondly over a diligently concentrated Lizzy Keen. "Tell him I'll owe him and... that it's for his girl."

"You mean your broad," Silas grumbled.

"Same difference," Red smirked.

"Understood." Silas clicked off without further adieu.

"Hunter Gaines?" Ressler had been paying attention.

"I think he's been hired to track Lizzy." Red motioned to the woman who was blissfully unaware of the conversation.

"I'm taking it, this guy is a Blacklister?" Ressler had never heard of him, at least.

"A man who takes his given name far too seriously." Red returned grimly. "He's very, very good at his chosen profession."

Ressler realized the importance of the statement.

"Why Lizzy hasn't been–" Red trailed off. "He isn't known for procrastination or failure to do his job."

Ressler glanced at his partner as well, "He's targeted Benton as well?"

"It appears so." Red inclined his head.

"You should hear this." Samar got everyone's attention.

Liz swiveled in her seat, the phones pushed closer to her ears as her eyes caught Red's.

"No... no." Lawford's voice filtered into the motionless air, loud and clear. Aram had clicked to 'speakerphone'. "I already have someone on Benton. He is not your concern."

Ressler's brow darkened considerably.

Red held Lizzy's eyes comfortingly.

"I have another... issue, I need you to handle." Lawford was continuing, unaware his words were being heard and taped for posterity.

Red stepped closer to Elizabeth unaware of his action as yet. She stared up at him, wide blue eyes clear and smiling.

"Yes, it entails a very nice chunk of change." Lawford sighed his growing disillusionment with those with which he must associate. "Enough of a cut, minus yours, of course, to even keep my lovely wife off my back for a goodly while."

Red peered through the binoculars across the field strewn with wildflowers of vibrant hues and shapes.

Windows lined the entire length of the South side of Lawford's domain. He was standing by one such portal, oblivious to the world around him. The man was lovingly stroking his mistresses uplifted cheek, staring adoringly down at the blonde beauty.

Red was suddenly pleased that soon, he would be sending ample evidence to Lawford's wife to ensure the woman received a nice alimony settlement.

He could not stomach the callous, almost cheerful tone Lawford exuded when speaking of someone else's demise.

Finally, the voice on the other end of the line spoke. Red could not immediately place or recognize the speaker.

"If this issue you're talking about is Holbrook or Reddington..." The man was saying, his voice holding an ever so faint hint of an accent, "you can kiss my ass, I'm not interested."

All eyes looked to Red, but the man kept his expression purposely unreadable.

"I'll handle Holbrook." Lawford's tone held his disdain, turning moodily, headed for his bar.

"No, you won't." the voice on the phone clearly doubted the other's abilities. "Others better than you have tried... and failed."

"I'm not paying you for a God damned critique." Lawford's good mood was a thing of the past. "This is an easy score I'm handing you... a woman."

The silence was eerie to Liz's ears.

"Even you can handle that I suppose." Lawford snapped.

Again silence spoke volumes to Red Reddington.

"I would move carefully were I you." there was a quiet menace to the jab. "Do you forget to whom you are speaking?"

Lawford hesitated his complexion blanching. Red smiled ruefully. Even from this distance, he could smell the fear.

"Doesn't matter to me who the target is..." the voice was continuing, "I'm sure someone out there would pay handsomely for your head... or... maybe I'll just consider it a practice shot."

Lawford gulped down his drink, "...Very funny. Are you going to help me with this or not?"

The man's tone was definitely altered.

"Who is this target?" the voice ended the stalemate, the tone curt and no-nonsense.

Lawford relaxed visibly, "...Elizabeth Keen."

Liz gasped, her eyes widening with shock.

Red threw the binoculars on the windowsill his steps purposeful.

Dembe exited directly behind the man.

Ressler cursed under his breath, realizing too late the implication of their departure.

He also realized the futility of going after them but in this instance, he had no choice.

Liz hobbled after the agent and Samar, who had run to catch up to her partner.

Ressler was already out the cabin door and into the driver's seat before Samar slid into her side of the car.

Liz finally managed the space, flinging open the cabin door just in time to see the tail end of Ressler's car fishtail about a curve in the road.

Ressler was gaining ground fast but there was no way he would catch up to Dembe's expert handling of the other car.

"Aram–" Liz turned pleading eyes the other man's way, "drive me."

"I...I don't think Mr. Reddington would want you–"

"Then I'll drive myself." she stubbornly set out for the Landrover Dembe had procured.

"Well, let me get your purse."

"Fuck the purse," Liz called out over her shoulder.

"Aren't the keys in there?"

"This is your car." she exasperated.

"Oh, oh, of course." Aram still hesitated. "Should I wake Wilson and–"

"There's no time for that." Liz was beyond herself. "Just give me the damned keys."

Aram responded to the urgency of her tone and her state, running back into the house.

It seemed ages before Aram was finally behind the wheel because his usual mode of transportation was a mountain bike.

He seemed momentarily lost and disoriented which made Liz want to scream.

"I hate when he does this shit." Ressler wasn't being shy about voicing his consternation, his hand gripped the steering wheel tightly as he maneuvered turn after harrowing turn at breakneck speed. "Why does he do this to me?"

"Aram is still recording," Samar was a little more level-headed, "if Reddington does what we believe he will, it will be swept under the rug as usual." she shrugged, gripping the handle provided as they hopped a dip in the road. "I don't know why you're complaining. If Lawford is out of the picture, your friend Benton is free and clear."

Ressler screeched to a jolting halt just a few yards from Lawford's cabin entrance.

Reddington's car was already there. Both doors opened and gaping, the car sans driver and passenger.

Ressler's weapon was drawn and at-the-ready as both agents approached the all-too-quiet structure.

The front door was opened, the large side panel hanging askew, off its hinges.

Ressler chanced a peek inside the large plate-glass window cased along the wrap-around porch with its pergola overhang.

Samar approached for the other side, crouched low, moving cautiously closer.

She watched her partner for hints of directions to take.

Ressler could see most of the spacious living area.

Dembe held Lawford against the far wall just below the stairwell... his gloved hand pinched into Lawford's throat tightly. Dembe's gun was cocked and held securely to the other man's head.

Reddington stood off to the center of the room, unusually quiet, not making any obvious threats.

But then again, why should he bother?

Ressler hurried forward, entering the foyer quickly, his weapon still poised to fire.

It only took milliseconds to survey the scene.

Slowly, he lowered his weapon somewhat, his eyes asking the rhetorical question.

The woman known to him as Lawford's mistress, whimpered despondently, hidden partially behind the couch to Ressler's right.

Her eyes said she was clearly in shock.

Samar positioned herself out of harm's way, but close to the female, weapon trained, her features hard and uncompromising.

Another vehicle approached.

Red's head whipped about...

"It's only Ke–" Ressler broke off when Reddington sent a death glare his way.

"Benton is off limits." Red drew Lawford's attention.

Lawford's eyes narrowed, "What has–"

Dembe cut off his air supply so he shut up for a beat, gasping for air his only real interest for a goodly while.

Reddington just stood, expression blank.

Ressler began to sweat. Something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it as yet.

Dembe caught an ever so subtle movement in Red's face, his fingers loosening somewhat.

Lawford gasped drawing in air in huge gulps.

"Call off your dogs, Lawford." Red finally spoke, his tone quiet, almost pleasant, "Benton is protected."

"How did you–" realization dawned, "you got this place bugged."

"You are so intelligent." Red stated sarcastically. "I can see why Francis holds you in such high esteem."

"Holbrook sent you?" the man spat. "Well, look at you, his little errand boy. Won't do him any good," Lawford laughed hollowly, "Benton's as good as dead."

Red inched forward, something in his manner quieting the other man's bravado.

Red leaned ever so closer to state what had to be stated. He enjoyed the sheen of perspiration and stench of fear emanating from Lawford.

"So... are... you." Red held the man's eyes for a long beat.

Lawford looked away first, "I got no beef with you." he stated almost meekly, "whatever is between Holbrook and me... What is your interest?"

Red remained silent, just staring at the guy. He sighed, his head tilting, "Benton is our interest." he repeated.

Ressler caught his confused scowl before anyone saw it. Why was the attention suddenly focused on Benton and not Keen?

Liz had accepted Aram's assistance, hobbling up on the porch, cursing silently for her predicament.

She felt so useless, sensing the others already did what needed to be done.

On the ride over, she wondered what exactly she planned to do to assist them.

She only knew, she could still brandish a weapon if back-up was called for and she wasn't about to let her friends... and especially Red and Dembe, risk their lives and not offer some sort of support.

She could see that Lawford was under Dembe's gentle nurturing care already. Samar had secured the mistress.

She had arrived too late.

Too little... too late.

She inched toward the opened doorway. Aram hanging back, taking her old position by the plate-glass window.

Liz had no intention of causing her team any trouble.

She would hang back and listen for once.

There was no need for her even to enter the cabin now.

She would stay out of harm's way, allowing those more capable to do their jobs.

She peeked about the corner of the doorframe, her eyes meeting Lawford's for a brief beat.

A sudden coldness gripped her stomach. His eyes narrowed, full of contempt.

She didn't even know the guy.

What had she done to him? Why did he want her dead?

Liz moved back slowly, her mind reeling. She searched her back cases, wondering if she had encountered the man before but was coming up empty at every turn.

Red had noted her arrival and for once, was proud of her discretion.

"You have what you need?" he questioned Ressler. "He as much confessed his part in a pay-for-hire hit."

"My God, Reddington," Lawford was astonished, "you've been reduced to nothing more than a common snitch for the FBI?"

"There is nothing common about me." Red's look spoke his disdain. "I assume," he returned his interest to Donald Ressler, "you were still taping?"

Lawford shook his head, "You know the drill, Reddington." he scoffed openly, "I give the FBI some info and they make me a deal. In a year, I'll be living in Boca Raton under an alias, free and clear."

Ressler's face flushed heatedly.

"So what's the deal here?" Lawford was still puzzled. "What's in it for you?"

Red remained stoically quiet.

Liz wondered the same but maybe Red was involved because of Francis? Did this guy really present such a threat?

Dembe turned the criminal over to Ressler's hands.

Donald shouldered his weapon, reaching for his cuffs.

At that moment, Lawford lurched unexpectedly shoving Dembe off-stride and knocking Ressler to the ground. He struggled frantically to withdraw Ressler's weapon but the agent held a steady grip.

Lawford judged Liz's position once again scrambling forward, clearly trying his best to reach his objective.

He rushed for the door, making a beeline for Elizabeth Keen who had stood back, against the outside wall.

Red had bounded over and past the combatants, his objective to put his body between Elizabeth and the impending danger, having sensed Lawford's intent.

He blocked the small frame with his own larger one, pulling her into the sphere of protection he offered.

Liz thrust her weapon into his capable hands, hunkering low that he might have a better shot advantage if he could manage it.

Samar found an opening in the melee, her weapon firing. The bullet hit Lawford's thigh, slowing the man considerably.

Donald grasped the same leg, jerking his entire weight on the wounded area.

Lawford screeched a blood-curdling yell, as Dembe righted himself, a beefy hand connecting with the side of Lawford's head.

Aram kicked out, his booted foot landing soundly under Lawford's chin.

The man fell back, moaning, all the fight gone out of him. He clutched his leg, blood seeping past his spread fingers.

Ressler stood over the man, his fist coming down with brute force.

Lawford fell into oblivion, the blow landing soundly.

"Police brutality." Dembe grinned over at the younger agent. "I approve."

Ressler's face was grim. He was beyond embarrassed to be caught so off-guard especially before Reddington.

His eyes traveled the room falling on the woman huddled over by the fireplace, a stuffed pillow held precariously in shaking fingers, eyes large and vacant.

Ressler had other priorities, dismissing the mistress entirely. He roughly flipped Lawford over, securing his cuffs.

"Watch my damned leg." Lawford cursed at the less than gentle handling, grimacing his pain.

"If I had my way," Ressler growled, "I'd break it as well."

Dembe grinned his camaraderie.

"Read him his fucking rights." Ressler hauled Lawford up with Dembe's assistance. "He makes me want to shoot him in the head." the agent bitched to his partner.

Lawford threw Liz a glacial stare as he passed.

Red turned his head slightly, his eyes chips of ice, holding Lawford's easily.

"That fucker will never see the inside of a courtroom," he stated quietly, so much so, Liz had to strain to hear the words.

"Red," such talk bothered her, "you don't have to do that for me... if it's the reason you–"

"I do have to do it... for you." Red snapped his head back around. "If only to show others what will happen if they even think about harming you in any way, shape or form."

Liz was troubled, "The Justice system–"

"Is a damn joke." Red disdained. "People like Lawford only understand one thing. Are you understanding that?"

Liz was saved a reply with Ressler's arrival beside them.

"I guess we have to take the asshole to the Emergency room." he clearly wasn't happy for the fact. He glanced grimly at the vehicle where Samar and Dembe and Aram waited for his presence. "Maybe he'll bleed out before we get there."

"Ress." Liz scowled.

"Maybe he will now..." Red had fallen into his Irish accent out of the blue, his eyes twinkling almost mischievously, "God willin'."

"Red!" Liz snapped at the questionable humor passing between the two men.

Ressler laughed shortly, "Some of these creeps get under my skin." he admitted his failing freely. "...Maybe it's time I thought about a change of careers?"

Red couldn't imagine Donald Ressler as anything other than what he was.

"You got any openings on your payroll?"

"What a red-letter day, indeed." Red lifted surprised brows. "Never thought to hear those words out of your mouth, Donald." he nodded approvingly. "My regard of you has lifted somewhat."

"Yeah..." Ressler was disgruntled, more so than Reddington imagined. "Well, times they are a changin'."

He spared Liz a worried look, "We'll pick up Wilson and Moore." he motioned with his head. "Get our things and head out to the plane? After we get out of the E.R."

"Sounds like a plan." Red approved.

"You may secure your prisoner in the back of the plane." Dembe offered as Red, Liz, and Ressler approached the SUV. "There's a small, rather uncomfortable bathroom. You will fund a very strong unbreakable chain under the sink."

Ressler's brow furrowed more and more with each passing sentence.

"There are several hooks imbedded into the floor... and any number of locks available in the overhead compartment."

"Why would you–" Ressler thought better of questioning such a set-up. "...Never mind."

Turning back to Reddington, he spared Dembe one last quizzical glance before, "I have to contact Cooper, notify him of our status. What about the hit on Benton and–"

"One problem at a time, Donald," Red suggested, reading the guy's thoughts.

The agent turned his back, motioning Reddington further from the car and prying ears, ignoring Lawford's entreaties for medical assistance. "Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a bunch."

"I'm reporting you to your superiors!"

"Get the name right." Ressler snapped right back at the man.

"I could be dying. I need medical attention." Lawford screamed out the partially closed window from the backseat of the car.

"You need a good swift kick which is about what I'm going to give you if you don't shut the hell up." Ressler had stalked to the car, confronting the man.

"One more interruption and I'll leave your ass in a clump of trees somewhere and you can take your chances with the local wildlife... I hear bears smell blood from five miles away."

Lawford fell silent, a morose look on his face.

"You aren't in charge, asshole," Ressler leaned menacingly close, "I am... got it?"

Red held his amusement.

Liz's mouth was slightly agape. Samar's look was one of admiration.

Dembe was scratching a bug bite on his neck, his opinion on the matter withheld.

Aram stepped quickly out of Donald's path as the man stomped moodily back to where he had left Reddington.

"What is this shit about a hit being put out on..." Donald jerked his head to the woman beside Red. "I thought it was supposed to protect her... being associated with you. What was the whole purpose–"

"Let me worry about, Elizabeth." Red cut the tirade short. "Do you doubt my ability to protect her under any given circumstances?"

Ressler fell silent for a beat, "That woman in there. She hasn't really committed any crimes or broken any laws..."

"I'll see to her," Red assured.

"As in, you'll get her home safely, see to her, or something more Red Reddingt–"

"How you paint me, Donald." Red laughed such absurdity aside. "I'll see to her plane fare and send her merrily on her way."

"Oh, Ress!" Liz tsked sorrowfully, her disappointment made abundantly clear. She marched back to the car she and Aram arrived in.

"Wrong way." Red reminded her before she had gotten but a few feet. "Dembe and I shall escort you back to the cabin."

"I'm not sure I want to go with you." she snapped petulantly.

"I have chocolate cremes in my car."

"Are you implying I can be bought?" she narrowed her eyes.

"And fresh donuts Dembe purchased just this morning." Red evaded an answer, sort of.

"...Chocolate or glazed?" Liz pondered for a goodly few seconds.

"Both... of course."

She trudged back, "Well... all right but don't even think you can bribe a member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Ressler sighed heavily, "You caved like an old ghost mine."

Liz lifted a haughty brow, "Well, at least I don't turn green at the mention of baby poop."

Ressler, right on cue, swallowed bile which had rimmed his throat, hurrying away.

"Touché..." Red applauded the woman's abilities. "All those sparing contests with Silas have served you well."

"Yeah..." she shrugged carelessly, "where are the donuts."

Red chuckled his mirth, heading her way.

---

"You told that woman to pawn anything Lawford left behind."

"I did, yes." Red nodded amiably.

"That was still his property."

"He won't be needing it." Red patted her hand comfortingly.

"Stop saying things like that." she pulled her hand aside. "It upsets me."

"It upsets you that I am Red Reddington?" Red put it on the line. "Because, Elizabeth," he had turned to face her in the seat, "it's who I am."

"It's just wrong to kill people indiscriminately." she was pretty sure. "Some, like the Blacklisters..." she trailed off.

She sounded so pious even to her own ears. Was she setting herself up as judge and jury for... Red Reddington?

"I have never killed indiscriminately, but I have killed and will very likely continue to do so," Red stated grimly. "I cannot change the past or predict the future. The world I deal in, oft times, can be cruel and unforgiving."

Dembe drove in silence. He knew, at some point, this conversation would have to take place.

He felt bad for his friends... both of them.

It was a crossroads.

He hoped some sort of understanding or compromise could be reached.

"To survive, I must be just as cruel... and unforgiving."

Liz glanced out the window, her arms folded over her chest.

What had she expected, she wondered? That she could change what was? That she could change Red Reddington.

Did she even want to change him?

It was her problem, this aversion to taking human lives so... seemingly callously.

And yet, Lawford clearly had no qualms about taking her life.

And why... it was still a puzzle.

She looked at Red, feeling his stare.

"...It's confusing," she sighed heavily, "I'm confused."

"Which is only human." Red inclined his head. He sat back, pondering over his own thoughts. "Perhaps I have stopped seeing the gray areas in life."

He shifted his eyes, "What about it, Dembe?" he went to a source he trusted. "Do I only see black and white now?"

"Elizabeth is young still," Dembe stated. "She can not possibly be as jaded as you and I, concerning our world."

Red drew in an even breath, exhaling slowly.

"And yes, you do see only in black and white..." Dembe met his friend's eyes in the mirror, "when it concerns the ones you love."

Elizabeth moved through the space separating them, her arms going about Red's neckline. She held on tightly to his stability, glad to feel the strength of his arms in return.

"If it makes you both feel better," Dembe continued, "Raymond does not kill everybody indiscriminately." he reminded. "You have many Blacklisters in custody, yes?"

Liz nodded slowly after a moments thought.

"But some," the large man returned his attention to the road, "Raymond must handle accordingly."

Red's jaw pulsed, his arms tightening about Lizzy.

"If Lawford were to discuss what was seen today," Dembe stressed, "not only would you be in danger, Elizabeth. But Raymond himself."

"If I could protect you from that part of me, Elizabeth," Red closed his eyes to the feel of her, "I gladly would but like you... I seem to be at a loss as to how to coincide one part of what I am... with the other."

She rested her head against his shoulder, "I don't even know why I should be feeling such things about... that awful man." she didn't. "He wants me dead."

"Stop saying things like that." Red placed his cheek on the crown of her head. "It takes years off my life and I only have so many remaining."

"Then you stop saying... that." she lifted troubled eyes.

Red smiled, his mouth brushing her gently.

"Why don't you both just stop speaking for a while," Dembe stated.

Red chuckled and Liz sighed, returning to Red's embrace.

"I imagine my picture is inundating the underground even as we speak." Liz bemoaned fiddling with a button on Red's vest.

"Dembe just asked us not to..." Red reminded tongue-in-cheek, "speak, that is. But... I will handle that aspect of the matter. Do not concern yourself." he crooked his head. "Do you believe that?"

Dembe tapped a readout of the elaborate dashboard, "Communique for your head guard..."

"A communique..." Liz murmured, impressed, "how very James Bond of you."

Dembe read rapidly, dividing his time between the road they traveled and the readout. "The plane is secure, and the team is headed out."

"See?" Red waved his hand expressively. "Silas is on it."

"Well, I trust the big ape to an extent." Even now her muscles were easing of tension. "If only because he wouldn't want to tarnish his reputation if one of his charges got whacked right under his superior nose."

Red chuckled easily, and she giggled, "Yes," he agreed wholeheartedly, "thank God for the man's ego."

The comfortable silence came. Dembe drove into the paved parking lot halting the car a few feet from the entrance of Greg Forester's establishment.

As they approached the entrance to the restaurant, both men hooked their arms under Elizabeth's on either side, lifting her effortlessly up the stairs, unto the spacious portico.

"Oh, stop!" she wiggled out of their grasps, ignoring their shared tittering. "I can get up those stairs faster than you two old farts, let's all be honest."

"How quickly they turn on you, eh, Dembe?" Red shook his head woefully.

Dembe grinned over the top of the shorter female's head, nodding his agreement, "Try to be chivalrous in this day and age..."

Liz sighed heavily for her lot in life.

Entering the domain, all allowed their eyes to adjust to the difference in light.

"I'll drop off the manifest," Red got down to business, "and then we can be on our way."

Elizabeth glanced about for something with which to occupy her time.

Dembe pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket.

Liz brightened, "I won five dollars off Francis last time we played." she sat down her purse on a nearby table, ready to get down to business herself.

"I am not... Francis Holbrook." Dembe assisted her to sit.

"I'll say you're not." Liz was clearly impressed with his solicitude. "Francis would have tried to pull the seat out from under me... the dork."

Dembe laughed, sitting.

Red watched for a moment, content to do so.

"Red..." Liz lifted entreating eyes, "you wouldn't happen to have a few dollars? I'll give you a cut."

The man frowned slightly, digging into his wallet, "If I only had a nickel every time I've heard those words."

He forked over three twenties, his brow lifted skeptically, "He cheats... very efficiently." he nodded towards her playing rival.

"I do not." Dembe corrected. "Well... not with, Elizabeth."

Red left his woman happy and content, making his way to the back offices behind the bar.

Greg Forester greeted him cordially, looking refreshed and revived.

"I have to thank you again for this." The man held the manifest aloft as they entered Greg's conference room.

The area was large and rustic, a magnificent mahogany table holding center court, comfortable padded seating surrounded the long object.

Books lined shelves the entire left side of the room. Greg's love of sailing was showcased by several Galley, Frigate, and Galleon sailing ships.

A couple of Majestic Man O' War ships took center stage. All were impressive and incredibly intricate with their countless riggings, bowlines, tacks and gun decks.

Red appreciated the attention to detail.

The portals, allowing miniature cannons leeway were three decks high. The billowing half mast rolls of sails draped listlessly. Open, sun faded material, curved as though caught in the ocean winds as the ship sailed to its next port of calling.

Red's eyes brightened as the largest of the ships took on the appearance it was sailing in the night. The dark tint of the sails looked almost midnight blue, its glowing edge shown brightly in stark contrast as the moonlight overhead, reflected off the hearty fabric. The black hull shimmered from sea spray with the stars overhead tinkling against the glistening surface.

If he closed his eyes, he swore he could feel and smell the warm sun and salt-tinged air misting his face, hear the rolling waves lapping at the stern... the stirring in his heart to explore, crested as impressively as a stormy sea.

He grinned at the familiar emotions.

This was quite an enviable collection.

It took a special eye to note that most were modeled after famous ships in history, many of them fittingly... Pirate ships.
Greg sat down his coffee mug, breaking Red from his pleasant adventure.

"...And for allowing me some downtime this morning." the man continued, the lines of stress he carried earlier were absent. "I really appreciated the gesture."

Taking one last look at the ships, Red turned away, setting aside his sense of adventure for more... current topics.

"Yes," Red nodded his growing amusement, "I saw how you... regrouped."

"..Pardon?"

"Totally by accident and rest assured, I made a hasty yet discrete exit."

"...Oh," Greg got the drift, "...listen, if I was out of line by taking advantage of your hospi–" the man trailed off. "I changed the sheets..." he offered the conciliatory gesture.

"I more than understand." Red held up a silencing hand. "You did me a favor." he could not wait to garner the rewards from Elizabeth Keen, as a matter of fact. "You schooled dear Elizabeth on a few of the baser points of a relationship you and..." he lifted his brows, "I don't think you've properly introduced..." he let it hang.

"Alison." Greg supplied readily his eyes softening instantly, "Alison Moran. Ally..."

Red had been unaware the girl took Big Jake's name, "She's very lovely."

"She is." Greg showed his pride. "And quite a handful at times."

"But that's what makes them so exciting, isn't it?" Red's own eyes softened at the thought of his own handful. "Besides, you expect anything less from Jake's daughter?"

"I had no idea what to expect, to be honest," Greg admitted. "But when Jake asks for a favor, you just don't refuse." he laughed good-naturedly. "I am ever so glad he did though... now."

"I heard about the slight trouble his daughter had gotten herself into." Red replayed. "Put her to work, did he?"

"Thought it would force her to grow up or at least, see how the other half has to live." Greg shrugged. "No one could foresee how it's turned out, least of all... me."

Red nodded, "Life has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it."

"Well anyway," Greg's brow furrowed, "I will extend my apologies to Elizabeth. I thought the house was empty." he looked at Red oddly. "I thought..."

Red waited patiently, his manner open, encouraging Greg to be honest... upfront.

"I thought you would have... approached the matter with Elizabeth already." a puzzled scowl was present on the handsome face. "Concerning... the sexual aspect of what went down this morning, I mean."

"I'm working on it." Red mused. While he was open to discuss any sexual endeavor... some things were better-left private between him and Lizzy.

"I don't know about you, but that session this morning netted me exactly what I hoped." Greg was proud. "Congratulate me. I'm soon to be a married man."

"Congratulations..." Red shook his hand gingerly, his smile a genuine one, "Did you already receive Big Jake's blessings or will this be a shotgun wedding?" he asked in jest.

Greg blanched suddenly, "No...no, I haven't yet. But that shotgun thing... it may very well be a real issue... now."

Red was curious, "An issue for you or Jake?"

"Not me, no." Greg was quick to reassure. "I want it very much... all that it entails."

"You had better." Big Jake held old-fashioned, family values. "Is there a... problem?" he sensed there was one.

Greg nervously pulled his tie, blowing out a shaky breath, "How much... did you uh, hear this morning?"

Red looked at the man who was suddenly blotting a sweaty brow with a shaking hand, understanding dawning on him.

Red's mouth quirked slightly, "Enough to know you're extremely worried about the illegitimate kitten your lady might now be carrying." he laid the cards on the table. "And that Big Jake is very proficient at math."

Greg's shoulders slumped, "I planned this for weeks. What I said... did."

"Planned for everything except Big Jake's reaction..." Red shook his head woefully, musing on the problem.

Greg dropped his face wearily into his palms before pushing from his seat, restlessly pacing the spacious room. "What if he doesn't go for a union between us?" was the real question in Greg's mind.

Red opened his mouth only to close it a second later when the man continued rattling on.

"And if by some stroke of luck he gave his permission," Greg tugged his ear absently, "Jake will expect a lavish wedding affair," the man had run the numbers in his head all morning long, "she'll be showing by then and Jake will kill–"

"Time is of the essence then." Red interrupted, lifting commiserating brows. "Isn't it?"

Greg halted in his steps, slumping dejectedly to a nearby stool, frowning, "...Not following."

"Cut him off at the pass." Red shrugged.

Greg arose from the stool, a hopeful expression on his face, his ear attuned to every word... though not comprehending them.

Red rolled his eyes, sighing, "If you're already married, not much he can do about it." he further explained.

"He can make Alison a very young, attractive widow." Greg mused.

Red held his smile, "If I find nothing objectionable about you, neither can he, although he will likely put up a good show for not having been considered in the decision making."

Red could see the wheels turning in Greg's head.

He fretted, "The license and blood tests will–"

"Dembe can be very persuasive when necessary." Red waved the issues aside. "He can cut through the red tape faster than anyone I know."

"Are you... serious?" Greg's mouth slackened. "You would...help?"

"If you want it." Red shrugged. "...Truly."

"I do." Greg responded rapidly. "Yes... yes." his excitement was building with each passing moment. "I really do."

"You haven't said how Alison would view the matter herself."

Red chuckled quietly when Greg's mouth instantly snapped shut.

His eyes gradually softened as Greg stood silent for moments on end, seriously taking the woman's needs into consideration over his own.

"I think..." Greg stood straighter, his confidence returning, "she would wish the same."

Red held up a finger, going to his phone.

He explained the pending situation to Dembe, asking that Elizabeth be brought to him.

"She is winning," Dembe reported. "I will be only too happy to end the game."

Red heard the woman's protests over the phone, smiling, "Tell her the planned activity... what woman could resist assisting us woefully unprepared males to get it right."

Red hung up, checking on Greg's condition, "The classic signs." he grinned, "Nerves kicking in?"

"It's a big step." the guy couldn't sit still. "But, one I've been wanting to take, Red... I swear."

The older man put a calming hand on Greg's back, "I have to line up a doctor for the blood test." Red's gears were attuned and functioning. "And a Justice of the Peace? This place does have one, correct?"

Greg laughed nervously, "We're not that backward."

"Then all that's lacking is.." Red spread his hands, "the bride."

Greg hesitated as if any moment Red would make that appear by magic as well.

"That would be..." Red held his laughter, "your department."

"Oh." Greg snapped to. "...Oh! Yeah!" he started off instantly. "The bride. We need... a bride."

The man halted his steps, a comical look on his stunned face, "...I need a... bride."

"Yes, you do." Red chuckled. "Indeed."

"What about witnesses?" Greg's panic sat in.

Red sighed mentally, "That would be me and Elizabeth."

"Oh." Greg breathed out a thankful breath. "Yes, of course. You and Elizabeth can be... witnesses."

Elizabeth came in just as Greg was exiting, the man almost ran smack into her smaller frame in his haste.

"Sorry!" he sped past, a sincere grimace offered backward. "Sorry, Elizabeth. My fault entirely. I have to fetch the bride. I'll b-be right back."

Elizabeth, who had been happily counting her winnings, dropped her hands to her sides, staring after the guy listlessly.

She sought out Red, "Dembe said come on through, that you would explain everything?"

Red watched her approach.

"What was that all about?" she motioned, lifting a fist full of dollars in Greg's general vicinity. "Explain.."

Red did so in the most economical manner possible.

"A what?" Liz was flabbergasted. "Red, you just don't..." she gestured again, wildly this time, "conjure up a wedding just like that!"

"You do if you're afraid for your life." Red reasoned further tacking on the Big Jake part.

"... Oh," Liz's sails deflated, "well, yeah. I see your point, I suppose." she frowned, "He's not just doing it to save his hide, is he?"

Red's mouth lifted at the corner, shaking his head, "No, I think he's been wishing for this occurrence for a long time."

He held out his hand. "My share of the winnings if you please." he motioned with his fingers.

Elizabeth's face fell, "You aren't really going to hold me to that, are you?" she put the money behind her back.

"You either pay me now in hard cash," he smiled pleasantly, "or later tonight..." his eyes ran her body slowly.

Liz breathed in a sigh of relief, shoving her ill gotten gains into her back pockets. "Well, you drive a hard bargain but..."

Red was hard pressed to hold his smile.

Greg entered, Alison in tow. He gently urged the young girl forward.

Liz realized suddenly, that was exactly the term for the little brunette who stood quietly, large blue eyes devoid of any real emotion as yet.

Greg made the introductions.

Alison's flush came and stayed, "I-I didn't mean... anything last night. Really, I didn't."

She concentrated more on Liz.

"I was angry with Greg... Mr. Forester." she corrected, stammering slightly.

"You can call me by my given name, angel." Greg clearly found the unabashed sincerity charming. "Seeing as how we'll be man and wife in an hour's time."

Alison's mouth fell agape. She stared up at her future husband, a light shining in the suddenly misty eyes, "You... sure you want to?" she whispered wistfully. "Really and truly?"

Liz's animosity and misconceptions melted into oblivion at that moment.

"I've dreamed of this day, Princess." Greg gently kissed the trembling lips. "Your dad will expect something more fitting but... this one is just for us, okay?"

The girl's face fell. She looked down at her waitress get-up, dismay filling her heart and soul.

"You guys are going to have to give us a few minutes." Liz 'got it'. "We women have some wardrobe issues to tackle."

An hour later, Alison stood nervously aside, looking at her reflection in a handy mirror.

"...Does it look... all right?" blue eyes sought Elizabeth out.

"You look absolutely beautiful." Liz looked over her handiwork, smiling happily.

She flicked the newly arranged curls with expert precision, placing a lovely sprig of baby's breath and a tiny rose into the perfect spot, affixing the tiny bundle with a bobby pin.

The cute little white dress was of a simple design bit the girl's figure made it work.

Liz beamed her relief offering a 'thumbs up' to a suddenly 'beaming' bride-to-be.

"You think so?"

Liz reassured with her confident smile, "This is all I could conjure..." she pulled a hopeful face, producing a small bouquet of pretty but mismatched flowers.

"They're perfect." Alison's eyes misted yet again.

"No, no!" Liz warned. "We'll mess our make-up."

Alison laughed, sniffling, exhaling shakily, "I guess... we're ready?"

Liz noted the fingers holding that small bunch of flowers trembled.

Panic struck, "Oh, Lord!" Liz whispered under her breath. "No! Don't you move yet."

She rushed to the door. Dembe waited patiently on the other side.

"I need, Red."

The large man lifted his brows.

"Oh, Dembe... it's terrible!" Liz wailed. "We need something old, borrowed, blue and... that other thing! We don't have any of it!"

Dembe nodded calmly, taking his leave.

Red approached minutes later holding up his hand having seen Lizzy's frantic expression.

"I come bearing gifts," he chuckled, holding aloft...

"Dembe's tie clip." he gestured to the blue crystal on the end. "What d'ya think, baby? Your bracelet for the borrowed?"

Liz fumbled with the clip, attaching it to Alison's dress. It sparkled cheerfully. She hastily removed her bracelet, handing it over but Alison was shaking so badly, Red himself slipped it on the slim wrist.

Liz turned expectantly, hands held out, "Two more to go." she breathed excitedly.

Greg himself shoved a small box through the door.

"Get out!" Liz ordered sharply. "You can't come in here."

"I'm not looking, I swear." Greg held up the box, shaking it. "I got these for her a couple days ago."

Liz grasped the offering handing it to Alison, "You better not be looking."

"I'm outta here." Greg laughed gleefully making a hasty retreat.

Red grinned as the man bolted before turning his attention back to an expectant face.

He had grappled with the 'old' portion of the tradition during their hasty search of the establishment until he happened upon perfection in Greg's office.

He held his hand out, his eyes sparkling when Lizzy sighed her exasperation for his dramatic pause. He eased his fingers apart, allowing the delicate gold chain to fall freely from his palm before snapping straight as the heavy weight at the end failed gravities test.

The antique compass swung like a pendulum from his finger, the sun shining off the glass face before spinning like a top to show her a sailing ship on the other side.

"To guide the couple on their journey..." Red's deep voice rumbled intimately.

Liz's eyes misted at the romantic gesture. She took a breath, leaning forward to kiss that fabulous mouth, "You really do say the sweetest, most romantic things." she whispered against his soft lips.

"How can I not?" he whispered right back, looking down at her little upturned face, "When I have been gifted the most wonderful inspiration ever."

Turning the hand in his, he laid a gentle kiss on her scar, holding her eyes as he did so. Red's heart beat heavily in his chest when Lizzy's long lashes fluttered and the sweet pink hue of her cheeks flushed.

The soft sound of a clearing throat and a presence beside him broke the spell.

"Raymond, the Justice of the Peace is here." Dembe stated softly.

"Thank you." Red inclined his head to his friend before easing Lizzy's hand back to her side, "When you're ready..."

She smiled warmly to the two men, holding up the last trinket with gratitude before slipping the door closed.

"Whew!" Liz settled. "That was close."

"I'm going to cry." Alison proclaimed.

"Don't you dare." Liz sniffled. "You just stop now." she smoothed the curls back so the earrings shown brightly. "Those are to die for!"

Alison touched them gently, blowing out a controlled breath, "Let's get this show on the road."

Red's smile was gentle on both women, "Alison, I have never seen a more lovely bride-to-be."

His eyes fell on his Elizabeth, his heart swelling. The woman had made this into an event to remember.

When Dembe had escorted Alison to her blood test, Liz, and the staff had prepared a romantic and charming altar on the outside patio in record time.

Soft candles and twinkling lights surrounded the area. The majestic mountains provided a backdrop of epic proportions, setting the romantic aura so needed.

Liz had pulled it together and gone with the flow. Her eyes now shone with subdued excitement.

She was as caught up in the proceedings as if it were a dear friend's wedding which she attended.

The woman looked as radiant as the bride-to-be. Liz preceded Alison down a makeshift aisle.

A bubbling exuberance flowed from her, the blue eyes shining with a tender affection as they met Red's.

He stood solemnly beside Greg who was shaking in his boots but so obviously enamored, it was verging on pathetic.

Though... he probably suffered similar moments when it came to Lizzy.

Dembe played a melodic tune from his tablet as each took their place in the time-honored ceremony.

As the bride approached her groom, all fell contentedly silent, each to their own thoughts as the Justice of the Peace opened his bible to the appropriate page.

Simple but meaningful vows were exchanged. The Justice's words were humble yet effective.

The depth of their meaning impressed even Red Reddington.

Spur of the moment though this had been, the look on Greg's face as he hesitated before kissing his new bride, was worth every second of preparation and thought.

Red could only hope that one day, he and Lizzy could be afforded the same opportunity.

A small gathering followed where Red toasted the newlyweds. Cake and drinks were shared by all.

In lieu of a proper wedding gift, Red slapped Greg a couple grand in a plain white envelope, apologizing for the ungraciousness of it all.

Greg handed it back, "I think you've done more than enough to–"

"Nonsense." Red refused to debate the subject. "A trip to the Big Island is in order. Bring me back a Mai Tai and I'll be content."

"I downloaded the pictures to Alison's email." Dembe had acted as photographer for the occasion. He showed the latest of his efforts to the two men.

A group shot of friends smiling and lifting a glass of cheer.

"You've missed your calling, Dembe." Red approved. "I want an 8x10 of that... and a wallet size, when you get a chance, Greg."

"After today, anything you want... anytime," Greg clearly meant the statement, "all you have to do is pick up the phone."

The men shook hands and Red took his leave with a still buzzed Lizzy in tow.

She finally sat back, cheeks aglow, kicking her shoe off, massaging her foot.

Red eased the boot off, massaging her free one.

"That was amazing wasn't it?" she fell back, closing her eyes. "And it turned out just fine," she sat up worried and fretful, "don't you think?"

"I think it was fabulous." Red consoled immediately. "What say you, Dembe?"

"A most auspicious affair."

Liz beamed, falling back again, "Ohh, that feels so good." she wriggled her toes happily. "I'm so stoked!" she giggled enthusiastically. "Did I drink too much?" she was worried again.

"It's just the excitement, sweetheart." Red chuckled. "It's good to see you so... carefree."

"That's it." she sighed happily. "I feel... carefree and luminous."

Red loved her mood.

"I love weddings." she frowned. "Although, I never used to." she was puzzled a beat. "But I loved that one. I hope mine is..." she trailed off self-consciously, her eyes flying to Red's.

"Hope yours is... what?" he encouraged.

She stared wide-eyed at him, "...I-I didn't mean..." What? What had she meant or not meant, in this case? What did she mean, right now at this moment? "...I didn't mean to imply... anything."

"Too bad." his eyes deepened. "But then again, you did catch the bouquet. This makes twice now, doesn't it?"

"That's just a silly superstition."

"Is it?" he mused. "Well, if one believes in tradition..." he let it hang, "who can foretell the future, right?"

She sat back quietly bemused.

She lifted luminous eyes, the sight of repressed hope barely hidden within the sapphire depths.

She dropped her head quickly, hiding her flushed cheeks.

Red sat back, his thoughts just as private as the woman's who sat next to him.

Who could foretell the future?

All he knew for certain was his future would contain Elizabeth Keen.

Come hell or high water, he would move heaven and earth to see his vision would come to pass.

Today's events only cemented the determination he felt.

"We'll figure it out, Elizabeth." he murmured quietly, glancing at the passing scenery. "I promise you that."