The sound of the party faded the further Red traversed the long hall. The couple hundred voices blending with the strains of the orchestra had been a welcomed diversion.
Straightening his tuxedo, he smiled cheerfully as two guards approached from an opposite wing.
"Where the hell am I?" the fluent Russian dialect rolled with ease from Red's tongue as he gestured to the maze of hallways.
"I feel like the mouse searching for the proverbial cheese." his good humor relaxed the two heavily uniformed men in their stance.
They laughed kindly, stepping aside.
"It is difficult to navigate, yes?" the tall blond Russian guard said, his accent almost lyrical in nature.
"Down the hall, to the second chandelier," the other gestured, "go right."
"Thank you." Red inclined his head. "General Sokolov's daughter will think I jilted her by now, I'm sure."
"General Sokolov's daughter? In that case," the older guard tilted a wry smile, "take that corridor," the man pointed, "...it will lead you to freedom."
Red chuckled his genuine amusement at the man's wit.
It wasn't a secret that, while Viktoria Sokolova was the very definition of beauty; with her dark chestnut hair, fair complexion and curvaceous body.
The woman was annoyingly shallow.
A short time ago before his retreat, while mingling at dinner, a man beside him offered Red the use of a butter knife to, as the gentleman put it... "End your suffering, no one will think less of you."
Which was likely the reason his absence had not been noted as yet.
Red was sure everyone believed he bolted the moment the opportunity presented itself. He wouldn't be surprised if the entire guest list was distracting the beautiful Viktoria, to enable him time to make a clean getaway.
"You have my upmost gratitude." Red grinned slowly at the guards, encouraging the raucous laughter that followed.
Without a backward glance, he offered a jaunty wave, continuing down the corridor. The low murmur of the gala echoed down the empty space.
As if considering whatever fate lie at the end of that corridor, he sighed dramatically, stepping stalwartly forward, taking the right indicated.
Pulling up quickly once out of sight, Red placed his back against the wall, waiting. Running his fingers through his hair, he listened to the heavy footfalls fade in the distance.
There was something disturbing about the sound of Russian boots, coming or going.
Continuously peering around the corner, he found the area devoid of his former comrade-in-arms. He made a discrete exit, casually heading to the side corridor.
He breathed easier as the sounds of the party diminished even more so, allowing him full breadth of the area surrounding him.
Heading down a darkened hall, he mentally counted off the doors until finding the one he sought. Glancing over his shoulder, he turned the knob, easing the door open before stealthily slipping inside.
He instantly froze when a ruffle of movement greeted him in the darkened room.
Shifting from the door, a sliver of light shone through the frosted glass slitting over the distorted shadow to his left.
He frowned his concern when the silhouette broke apart and became two distinct figures.
The outline of a bare female thigh flitted sensually into the slit of light.
Red cursed his luck, as the other shape, obviously of male origin came into view.
The man turned, tucking his clothes back into his trousers, murmuring softly to his lover, graciously offering her a handkerchief.
Red averted his eyes, not because of any sense of modesty but rather he was attempting to control his rising ire.
The one lover embraced the lithe form of his paramour, kissing her passionately. The pair clung desperately to one another, whispering lost phrases of love.
"You must go." the man urged. "You will be missed if you do not."
"I know, I know, you will not forget... you will be at the appointed–"
The trembling response allowed a certain helplessness to which the man instinctively responded.
"Yes, I will meet you there." the man confirmed, ushering her gently to the door.
Red's dark eyes followed the pair as they stepped into the light, the open yearning in their own gaze apparent even from this distance.
Gathering her in his arms once more, the dark haired man could not resist one last embrace, burying his face into the feminine neckline, "Be safe, my love."
With one quick adjustment to her clothing and hair, the female grasped the doorknob and stepped through without a backward glance.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Red spat his fury, stepping from the shadows, his face a mask of repressed anger.
"As I was ordered. We have to infiltrate the–"
"Their secrets and plans," Red growled, "not another man's wife's puss–"
"Fuck off, Red." the man growled.
Red gritted. "If this is uncovered, that you and–"
"Well, it won't be!" the man snapped. "Will it?" the dark blue eyes narrowed accusingly.
"I think you two are doing well enough on your own." Red shook his head. "That was reckless... meeting her here."
"...I love her, Red." the man leaned into the desk he and his lover had just vacated.
"She playing you," Red scoffed, "you fool. You're a free ride out... nothing more."
"She's not like that!" the man snapped, before falling silent, turning introspective... moody. "You wouldn't understand..."
"Then make me understand, Declan." Red moved, rifling through cabinets, flicking through the files rapidly, performing the actual job he was assigned.
"I have to get her out of here." Declan murmured despondently, understanding the enormity of the situation.
"Little problem with that plan." drawing a stack of folders free, Red cut the man a lackadaisical flick of his eyes. "One, we're in Russia... and two, she's married."
"She's pregnant."
Red stopped in his tracks, his attention slowly turning towards the other man, the information processing.
"Oh my God, you have to be–" he halted, the man's demeanor saying it all. Red closed his eyes to the developing situation. "Is it–"
"Mine?" Declan laughed shortly, a certain cynicism apparent in the response. "Yes... the baby is mine."
Red didn't know why he bothered asking. Declan's actions had implied enough. As did Declan's very nature. The man had always been reactionary. Acting first, thinking later... if at all.
"Of all the asinine, irrespo–"
"Ray, you have to help me." Declan scratched an agitated hand against his neck, the desperation showing in every fiber of the man's being.
"What the hell do you expect me–"
"We have to get her out." Declan sought Red's features, the pale blue eyes pleading his case effectively. "I need her safe... with me."
"Well then, I'll just smuggle her out in my luggage." Red's clipped and icy tone bespoke of his anger. "Dammit, Declan! This is not the time!" he hissed his own kind of desperation. "We will discuss this later."
"No matter what happens," Declan grasped Red's arm, "you have to protect her," he paused, swallowing heavily, "... them."
He recognized the fear in Declan's eyes. Not for himself and the trouble the man had further immersed himself in, but for Katarina and his child.
Red knew well that fear for one's child. The moment he learned his wife believed she might be pregnant, that he was to be a father... he felt an instantaneous surge of overwhelming emotion tug at his gut. Something so primal in nature, it erased all reason or sanity.
Unfortunately... or fortunately, given his own current predicament; that eventuality had not come to pass. But that sensation... the fear, still stuck with him.
Everything Red did, every choice he made in his life from this moment onward would affect any future children.
Red hoped this was one decision he would not come to regret.
"I will," Red promised, soothing his friend, "with my life."
Both men fell silent as the heavy weight of those infamous Russian boots' tread outside the frosted glass of the door then appeared along the cracks of the frame.
Red's hand instinctively reached for his weapon, his fingers curving to the rough, familiar grip.
Jerking awake, Red lifted the weapon in his hand, aiming it at the door. The sound of the footsteps neared, followed by the low squawk of a radio.
Red tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind.
The setting was all wrong. This was not... where he was before.
He listened acutely to the sound of the surrounding area, sweat beading his forehead.
His eyes searched the darkened space around him, focusing sharply on a sliver of light streaking across the bottom of the closed door meters away...
He sensed another's presence, seeking the source.
The curvaceous form shifted slightly, a soft sigh following. He would know that sigh anywhere...
Home... he and Lizzy were at home.
Dropping his head back into the pillow, Red sighed his disgruntlement, sliding the weapon back on the side table.
The sounds of a guard's footfalls passing outside their room... and the long ago memory of the Russian guards closing in on his position must have overlapped in his subconscious mind.
Absently peering at the clock on his nightstand, Red focused bleary eyes. It was only a little after three in the morning.
It wasn't unusual for the man to wake sporadically throughout the night or to even start his day at such an hour.
Though, since sharing a bed with Elizabeth, he had grown accustom to getting six hours sleep, at the very least.
"I love her, Red." The eerie words came back to haunt him yet again.
"Shit..." he whispered dejectedly, scrubbing his face roughly with his hands. The dream echoed in his brain, as though it had only happened moments ago.
"You damned fool." he muttered tightly, his body unexpectedly shivering in the night air.
Glancing down, he scowled his confusion when he saw nothing but his naked form... and one little foot peaking out from a mountain of blankets on the other side of the bed.
Shifting wry eyes to his companion, Red could just see the top of the dark tendrils of hair above the rest of the covers.
Chuckling softly, Red rolled to his elbow, peering closely at what was visible of Lizzy's warm, angelic face.
Thirty years ago, he believed her father to be an idiot of the highest magnitude.
Red had been so moralistic, led by misguided principles... he failed to recognize or fathom how strong a pull deep, abiding love could be.
But now, as he stared down at Lizzy... he understood Declan in ways he never imagined possible.
Though, unlike Elizabeth's father, Red had not fallen in love with a double-agent.
After some soul searching of his own recently, it was due to their close proximity... Red had grown to tolerate Katarina, if anything, to appease Declan.
He now comprehended how selfish and bereft of any emotion Katarina Rostova had been.
Elizabeth was nothing like her mother. Lizzy was good-hearted, loving and kind.
Granted, in the past, her loyalty had been skewed but then... in hindsight, was it really?
She married Tom in good faith. She made a vow, a sacred one to her... to stand by that rotten bastard's side for better or worse, and had done so admirably. Was it her fault the man turned out to be the scum of the earth?
Because of that asshole's actions and because Elizabeth damn well deserved better... Red vowed to be everything Tom Keen was not.
Red would do anything for Elizabeth, and it had nothing to do with the promise he made to protect her.
Becoming romantically involved with the woman had never been his intention.
He only meant to work with her; become the team that would eventually unlock the clues to answers they both needed.
She also possessed the Fulcrum which would aid in those endeavors.
Though, the moment he saw her at the Blacksite... he was captivated. An alien emotion took root against any sane reasoning. He was positive lust and passion were the forefront emotions guiding him at first. He was, after all, first and foremost a male.
But then... something shifted.
The baser emotions evolved over time and contact.
He cared for her... worried himself to distraction for her. Elizabeth made him laugh, rage and hurt. She stood up to him. She challenged him.
No one could get under his skin like Elizabeth Keen.
Red was sure her father would see it in a different light but–
Lizzy's father.
He shook his head disgustedly, remembering Tom's ploy to sway Elizabeth to his warped way of thinking.
Red had to agree with Elizabeth. If her father were truly alive and partnered with Tom... the fucking traitor... well...
In fact, were the man alive, allowing Lizzy to believe him dead, the pain of such an unconscionable act would dissolve any bond of kinship Red had previously felt.
In all honesty, Red would have no issue killing the man.
Another guard passed in the hall. He was immediately alerted to the heightened security presence.
Silently rolling from the bed, he grasped the radio, taking sanctuary in the bathroom.
"Update." Red's voice was its usual controlled self. He stepped absently towards the toilet.
Leaning his arm into the overhead cabinet, he held the radio aloft, ready to respond when needed.
"All clear." Joe copied back, his tone reassuringly steady.
Red's head tilted questioningly even as he mentally sighed his relief. He glanced down, watching his bladder automatically emptying of its contents.
"There is added security in the hall...why?" Red wanted to know, his tone saying as much.
"Granger won't tell his people to take off," Joe shrugged. "We have a plethora of security roaming the halls. And our guys, well... you know."
Red finally understood. His men wouldn't leave their posts unless directed otherwise.
"Tell our men to stand down." Red advised. "Get some sleep while you can."
"Are you sure, because this is our normal–"
"I want you all alert over the next couple days." Red decided. Given the previous day's events and Tom's disappearance, he wanted extra vigilance for all concerned.
Besides, given the extent of Tom's wounds, Red assumed the idiot would at least take the evening off to recuperate.
Red sensed Joe's hesitation and the reason behind it.
Granger, while good at his job, was not a normal part of Red's team. They didn't have the rhythm or deep trust with the man as yet.
"Antonio would kill Granger if Lizzy was harmed in any way." Red reminded.
"Need I remind you, Antonio has yet to see Liz today?" Joe reminded in kind.
"Don't remind me." Red muttered grimly to himself. "Get some rest."
Joe sighed, "Aye, Captain."
Red brushed his teeth and rinsed his face, which settled him back into reality. He shook the sensation of his dream away.
Sitting his comm down, Red crawled back into the bed, snuggling to Lizzy's warm, shapely body.
She mewed softly, stirring from the disturbance. She opened herself to the soft lips on her neck that silently apologized for waking her.
"You little blanket thief." Red whispered, pulling what he could of the sheet over his lower half.
"Oh..." Liz groaned apologetically, "..sorry." She wiggled about, dislodging more of her cocoon, offering it over.
His eyes crinkled, listening to her grunting and cursing as she unraveled the blankets from around her body.
"Your ability," he chuckled, "to swaddle yourself, never fails to astound me."
"Oh, shut up..." she groused sleepily. "Swaddle this..."
While Red could not actually see the gesture, he could imagine it, his grin widening.
Chuckling, he steadily held the blanket, allowing the woman to literally roll herself free of her self-confinement.
Sitting up, she stretched her arms high over head, yawning. Red ran his hand down the naked slope of her back, tenderly rubbing the swell of her bottom.
"It's still early.." he murmured, making sure the woman was aware of the time and its implication. He would not turn down a tumble at this stage of the game...
"Have to pee..." she sighed, pushing from the bed.
Red's lips twitched their amusement, his eyes trailing the sensual sway of her bare bottom before she disappeared into the bath.
Rolling to his back, he settled his head in the crook of his arm, sighing his contentment.
Some people would find it odd he loved little moments like this; for he found Lizzy's personal declaration charming... for him, it was just another one of those little details that spoke of their closeness.
Elizabeth wouldn't have made such a bold statement a few months ago.
He let his mind wander as he waited out her return...
A few months ago seemed like a lifetime.
He enjoyed the time so much, anytime really, spent in Elizabeth's company, the days seemed to rush by at break-neck speed.
Red's memories of those times was sharp and vivid.
He so treasured the journey of getting to know Elizabeth Keen.
It was in the Fall; he recalled.
Having business in New York, he had jumped at the chance to offer Lizzy a ride on his jet.
Elizabeth was set to testify in a case she worked shortly before the Blacklist Task Force was formed.
It was agreed they would travel to the city together.
Usually not one to suffer pretentious victories, Red would admit that he enjoyed the woman's obvious state of semi-awe over the fact he owned a plane of such magnitude.
Before the trail was to commence, a copy-cat killing occurred near West Point.
Lizzy, the consummate profiler, wished to get a feel of the area in which the body was discovered, so they had driven from New York instead of flying which Red normally would have done.
Even though their impromptu road trip occurred due to tragic circumstances, the trip itself turned out to be a thoroughly enjoyable outing.
In those days, any excuse to spend time with the woman was welcomed, but the amazing Autumn colors the area offered were also in full swing.
The drive turned out to be an incredible reprieve Dembe, he and Elizabeth needed. For even the woman took time to look up from her notes to take in the spectacular views.
Dembe found a quaint restaurant tucked back into the wooded landscape.
The proprietor entertained them with tales of the historic history of the surrounding towns.
All in all, it was a charming afternoon Red remembered fondly.
Elizabeth seemed more relaxed and unguarded in his presence allowing her natural good humor to come forth.
All too soon, work called, of course.
She did her thing with the local constabulary while Red and Dembe shopped the plethora of antique shops lining the streets of the picturesque town where the gruesome murder had taken place.
The truth came out as Elizabeth unfolded clue after clue.
Even Red had been surprised when the actual murderer turned out to be the main suspect's mother, who was... apparently an avid fan of the crime drama, CSI.
She staged a copy-cat killing intending to throw the original trial off its axis.
Red found the fact noteworthy but he could never understand how a mother's love could go so awry.
He was not a mother... but understood the desperation and fear one could feel for one's child though.
On the drive back to New York City, they encountered heavy construction which narrowed the two-lane thoroughfare down to one.
The chances to stop for a break were nil.
By the time Dembe could finally return to the lovely route they had driven on the way down, nature's call was making itself known to all occupants of the car.
Unfortunately, Red remembered the long stretch of highway, while lined with an abundance of beautiful maples and oaks... was an area where human habitation was few and far between.
Both he and Dembe searched desperately for any suitable location where one might conceivably answer such a call.
The signs were no help, promised rest stops were closed for the season and the nearest gas station was miles farther ahead.
Thirty miles to be exact.
Red's bladder moaned for him. He could only imagine how Lizzy was fairing.
The woman was unconsciously squirming about in the back seat, casting anxious eyes his way whenever he checked on her.
Dembe, always the gentleman, broke off the main road at the very next gravel path he encountered.
The small over-grown lane took them far back into the even more over-grown countryside.
Lizzy's hand gripped the handle of the back door so tightly, Red could hardly contain his amusement.
"This is fine!" she called out as a canopy of trees and a row of high bushes came into view.
Dembe halted the car, and she bolted.
The two men stretched their legs, each taking the opportunity presented as well.
"I'll keep watch." Red motioned Dembe off first.
Glancing often in the direction Lizzy had gone to check on her well-being, he noted she clutched a bundle of napkins in her hand as she exited the car.
The thought made him chuckle.
"Do you know Dembe," he greeted the large man's return with an easy affinity, "in the old days, people used a variety of products, shall we say... for bathroom tissue."
Dembe nodded knowingly, "...Sears and Roebuck."
"Grass, moss, sand..." Red continued undauntedly, "plant husks, fruit skins..."
"Seashells," Dembe added methodically, "corn cobs."
"Sponge on a stick." Red finished up as Elizabeth came back into view looking much more refreshed. "Those Ancient Romans," Red laughed dryly, "who can top them, right?"
Red handed Elizabeth wet-wipes as she approached.
Dembe walked to the back of the car, opening the trunk. "The Chinese used paper for hygiene in the 6th century, A.D."
Elizabeth hesitated, looking askew at the two men beside her. What the hell had she walked into?
"Doesn't count." Red waved the fact aside. "It wasn't patented. Joseph C. Gayetty, an American inventor, was credited with the feat."
"The Chinese should have been given credit..." Dembe replied.
The woman perused the array of items the trunk held. "Are we planning for the Zombie apocalypse?"
She scanned the assortment of packages yet again.
Nuts, dried fruit, chips, bottled water, candy bars... even a package of Red's cigars sat among the mix.
"Dembe always comes prepared." Red explained.
"Ever since Nepal." Dembe nodded thoughtfully.
Red shivered at the memory. "It was the monsoon season." he began the tale. "We were there to take possession of a large shipment of opium..."
Lizzy, used to his conversational tone while discussing his illegal antics, just smiled and shook her head.
"...When we were detained by mudslides and general anarchy." Red related, waving over the unexpected bounty. "Something to tide us over for the next 60 miles?" he asked solicitously, before continuing on with his adventures.
They all climbed back into the car refreshed by the small respite.
The most endearing memory of that time occurred later that day, however.
At the same diner they had patronized on the way down, Lizzy shared his side of the booth, and stole pickles off his plate as if it were her right to do so.
The sound of running water in the bathroom broke Red from his musing.
He was brought back to the more preferable present, although his sojourn into the past had been a most pleasant interval.
Rolling from the bed, Red walked to the bathroom, absently slipping into his robe as he crossed the floor. The expensive weave of the area rug felt luxurious on his bare feet.
Lizzy exited the bathroom, stumbling about, still half asleep.
Stepping quietly in behind the woman, Red draped her robe over her shoulders, drawing her back into the sphere of his body.
Lizzy slipped her arms through the roomy sleeves, leaning back into his embrace, laying her head against his shoulder.
"Are you all right?" Red murmured, his concern allowed in his tone.
"No, no...I'm fine." Liz gently squeezed the arms encompassing her. "I don't even have a headache."
Red couldn't see but a shadow of Elizabeth from a sliver of hall light peeking under the door, but it was enough to see the misshapen blemish on her snow white skin. Tracing the bruising tenderly, he leaned, placing a feather-light kiss to her injury.
They stood in the quiet, the darkness of the room just as comforting as it was disquieting.
Something was on Elizabeth's mind.
Certain tells alerted him.
The slight stiffness of her body although she was trying to relax... was strung tight.
She had been distracted during dinner, playing it off as concern should Antonio unexpectedly drop by and see her condition... she playfully pouted that Red was too young to die over a tiny bruise, but there were shadows in the blue eyes she could not down play.
Plus... the blankets had given her away.
Given the circumstances thrown at them this last couple days, it was only natural that she would be stressed out.
But until tonight, she had slept peacefully and untroubled beside him, snuggled close, as was the norm since they became lovers.
Going up against a serial killer and being shot at by a professional sniper had not seemed to phase her in the least.
Nor did he believe Elizabeth's confrontation with her ex-husband to be an issue.
Tonight, she managed a tightly wound cocoon with the bedcovers as though needing the comfort and security such an environment could supply.
Subconsciously aware of her restlessness, he awoke each time when he felt her shift.
Due to his own tiredness, he reached to touch her, causing the woman to settle before slipping back into sleep.
Something was on her mind, weighing on her.
"What is it?" Red needed to know. "What has you so... unsettled?"
"Do you think," Liz whispered, breaking the silence after a very long spell. So long in fact, Red thought she would refuse to answer, "... he's alive?"
Red's face contorted painfully, hearing the doubt... the apprehension in her voice.
"I'm not..." she hesitated, forging on quickly... too much so, "saying I don't believe you."
"I know you're not questioning my sincerity," Red soothed, wishing to put her more at ease.
"I just thought," she sighed, "if there was a possibility..."
"I don't think he is, baby." he kept his tone calm.
The last thing he wanted was for her to sense his pure, unadulterated anger at Tom Keen. Anger which spiked incandescently, even now. He refused to allow it color the moment.
"I think for Tom to taunt you with something so personal..." Red controlled his ire. Taking hold of her hand, he kissed her cold fingers absently, "besides being utterly unforgivable, was nothing but an attempt at control."
He led her to the bench at the end of the bed, sitting down beside her.
"Tom knows how much your parentage means to you," he gently squeezed her hand, "and used that knowledge against you, unerringly."
"That's what he does, Red." Liz laughed humorlessly.
He couldn't wait to get his hands around Tom's throat and choke the fucking life from the bastard.
Red held steady when her deep blue eyes lifted, the pain within clearly visible. As was the uncertainty.
"The last time I saw your father," Red began slowly, uncertain he should even go this route, "he was laying face-down and surrounded by flames. There just could not have been any..."
Liz swallowed around the lump in her throat, knowing she had contributed to that gruesome picture Red painted. But the guilt she once felt over the incident, was dulled.
Taking a breath, Red continued, no matter how disturbing the imagery. Elizabeth needed to know, apparently even more so than she did before.
"We barely made it out alive," Red reminded, "how he could have..." he shook his head. "It would have been a miracle had he escaped, Elizabeth."
Liz's eyes lowered slowly, her chin dropping with her spirits.
Red lifted her eyes back to his, "I believe with everything I hold dear," he stressed, "your father is dead. He would have never left without knowing you were safe."
"The Fulcrum" Liz whispered her pain, "changes people."
"Your father took the Fulcrum for a multitude of reasons." Red sighed. "The upmost important one being, leverage."
He lifted a staying hand, averting Elizabeth's flurry of questions, for now.
"We will not get into that at this time," Red vetoed it at this late hour, "but I will say... it was never his intention for you to be harmed in any way."
Red believed what he said with all his heart. No matter how idiotic Declan's actions had been, the love the man had for his daughter was sincere.
"Your father loved you to the point of distraction, Elizabeth." Red stressed.
"I shot him, Red." her face fell.
"Do you think your father wasn't aware how scared you were?" he questioned.
It had been a long time, but he still remembered the way Jennifer looked at him when frightened. Those little eyes could melt even his hardened heart.
It was a given, Declan knew Elizabeth had to have been terrified by what she saw that night.
"Milos Kirchoff never associated with your father," Red believed he was following her train of thought. "Nor would your father align himself with Milos, who arranged the marriage with Tom Keen."
"How can you be so sure?" she questioned her uncertainty.
"Because," Red cupped her cheek, lovingly stroking it, "he enlisted me to protect you..."
Liz's eyes widened in surprise.
"If Tom truly was in league with your father," Red's mouth lifted into a faint smile, "the asshole would know that." he tilted his head. "Why employ Tom... when I'm still here."
Liz's lip suddenly trembled, "Is that why you..." she blinked rapidly against the gathering tears.
Was Red only here with her because of a pact he made with her father? Was he like Tom Keen in that aspect?
"No," Red's stern tone startled her, "I did as I promised..." he said, "I saw to your safety and ensured you had a comfortable life with Sam."
Liz blinked, tears skirting down her cheeks. If he was trying to make her feel better, he was failing miserably.
"Later, when I gained secure connections," Red began erasing the doubt, "I began the Blacklist intending to fix our lives," he explained, "... and I wished to meet you, see the woman you had become."
He understood well enough her thought process and broken statements for what they were.
"I never expected to come to care for you as I have..." Red admitted, "nor fall so helplessly in love."
Liz's stomach churned, unsure what to feel now. Her emotions were raw and exposed.
"I know Tom has you all twisted up inside, questioning everything about your life." Red stroked her arm. "I expected as much."
He hesitated, sighing heavily, "I'll go to the safe house, give you a couple days... when you're ready," he knew she had to be feeling unsettled, "...I'll be here."
He leaned, kissing her brow gently as he stood upright.
"We need to talk." she was sure of that.
She watched him go, a maelstrom of emotions hitting her as the man walked away.
"This may be the best for now, Elizabeth." he advised. "I won't let him cause a rift between us."
"Wait..." she involuntarily called out to him.
Red stopped, turning around, waiting. His own emotions were in chaos but under wraps for the woman's sake.
Elizabeth hurried to the man, seeking the comfort only he could bring.
She snuggled into the warmth provided, as she always did, settling her cheek against his chest.
Red waited, controlling his breathing, afraid that the contact wouldn't feel the same for the woman.
It felt so right... so normal for him.
He couldn't tell if she remained close because she wished to or... she was denying that the emotions might be forced.
His thoughts wandered for a millisecond.
Upon his return from a tour at sea, his wife always stiffened at first contact on the pier.
As if the sensation of being in his arms again was foreign. He could sense the tension, the apprehension.
It often took days until she grew accustomed to him.
He too, felt the strain and it wasn't until she finally allowed him into their bed, intimately speaking... that any sort of normalcy was achieved.
The sex was a symbolic gesture which cemented their relationship again.
Red never begrudged the woman the time needed to reacquaint herself for in reality, he had needed it as well.
"Red?" the hesitant request brought him back to the present.
"Yeah, baby?" the pet name rolled from his tongue naturally but he second-guessed its use at such a moment.
"Does it... feel the same?" the blue eyes lifted, searching his anxiously, fear inside the lovely orbs. "... It does for me." Liz whispered hopefully.
Red desperately tried to read the emotions she was exuding.
"When Tom... even after he had been cleared at the post office?" she scowled slightly, as if puzzled. "Something didn't set right, something..." the scowl increased, "I felt... unsettled."
It hadn't been the correct word, Red sensed but for him, the halting explanation would do just fine.
"I... I don't feel that," the blue eyes swept his face religiously, "... with you."
She lay her head back on his shoulder. "You make me feel safe," she whispered. "It feels so... right when you hold me."
Red released the breath he'd been holding, relaxing completely. "I know these are just words..." he murmured, "but I would never betray your trust in me...not ever, Elizabeth."
He realized, her world was in a constant state of upheaval. She shouldn't feel ashamed to admit there had been a minute or two of doubt.
"Never doubt my loyalty to you," he stressed, "or my love." He was suddenly very tired. "We have lost so much to this useless fight for power..."
The words meant more than Red realized.
Liz knew, without doubt, Red spoke the truth.
If anyone knew the pain she experienced, it was Red. He had lost just as much to this fiasco.
"... I can't bear to lose you too."
His arms crushed her to him suddenly, as he sought comfort as well.
"I... just couldn't." his words were lost to the softness of her robe, burying his face into the fabric.
"I'm not going anywhere." she returned the embrace, holding onto his strength for dear life. "You just make sure you're beside me all the way... together... there is no way they can win."
Red closed his eyes, his hand massaging her back and shoulders lovingly now. His own fears subsided with each minute spent in her arms.
"We make quite a team, don't we." he lightened his mood for her sake.
"Damn right we do." Liz nodded stoutly. "They might knock us down but in the end... we will see who is left standing."
"That's my girl." the man could finally smile.
"I'm your woman." she corrected...a smile playing at her lips.
"You are that." he could not argue the point. His eyes swept the sensual frame with masculine appraisal. "You most certainly are... that."