Thinking back on it, Red didn't know when everything had gone so horribly awry.
It had been just another regular business transaction, but then again, the word regular could never be applied with Glen Carter involved in the mix.
As opposed to the endless hours of wait imposed by the 'DMV guy', as Lizzy had taken to calling the small, diminutive man...
Time was of the essence, so Red threw caution to the wind, sending Dembe to bring Mohammed to the Mountain, as it were.
Red cast the man a speculative glance.
Glen Carter was making himself at home as he seemed to do any place he happened to invade.
He sat the drink he poured himself on the table next to the blueprints over which Red labored.
Red cringed. Antonio's associate, Nick Ossani, was a stickler for coasters. He trained his men well in that area, the small idiosyncrasy one they had long since come to accept.
Too intent on the matter at hand, Red let the action pass.
Antonio, however, took exception to the small faux pas. He himself placed a coaster beneath the offending glass.
"Have a little respect for another man's domain." Antonio scolded.
"Don't get your panties in a bunch," Glen held up a hand, his expression askew. "If you want me to use a coaster, I'll use a coaster. Don't make a Federal case out of it."
Antonio's brows rose exponentially.
Refocusing on the layout from Miguel's house, Red brought Antonio's attention elsewhere as quickly as humanly possible.
Both men gave the blueprint a passing glance, before seeking the informant once again.
"You're positive they're holed up here?" Red restlessly tapped the large spread. His steely eyes warned of his mood, and most sane people would reply without hesitation.
Glen Carter was anything but sane.
The man looked over a table full of weapons which lay nearby as men were cleaning the pieces, prepping them for action later in the day.
"You doubt me... my skills?" Glen fingered a black steel gun, spinning it carelessly.
"I doubt," Red muttered tightly, slapping the man's hand away from the precariously handled firearm, "every damn thing you say."
"Where's the loyalty," Glen complained, "the trust... my raise."
"This is important, dammit," Red grated, embarrassed for Antonio's presence, "act the part!"
How did one explain such a complex relationship with the likes of Glen 'Jelly Bean' Carter to anyone, let alone a man like Antonio?
"Speaking of which," Glen remembered, "I don't want to be late to Trudy's romantic barbeque," the man nudged Dembe in open camaraderie. "I promised to deliver the wine..."
Red sighed woefully, hoping for the best, which he knew instinctively... would not materialize.
"...And a pound of special kielbasa." Glen pumped his hips lasciviously, smirking, happily sharing his plans for the day with each man present.
Grimacing, Red turned away from the display, "Unfortunately, she'll only receive a boar and his cocktail wiener."
Antonio, who until that point could not assign Reddington's employee into any set category... grinned as he side-glanced the informant, watching the man's lurid smile fall.
"I'm not boring!" Glen took umbrage.
"I didn't imply that kind of bore." Red's brow lifted meaningfully. "But in this case..."
"I'll have you know," Glen clarified, "women love–"
"...To strangle your scrawny neck?" Red narrowed his eyes, intending to send an appropriate warning. Didn't the little prick realize he was in the presence of a leader in the Mafia?
"Oh, you noticed," Glen turned aside, showing his profile, "yeah, I lost a few pounds," he ran a proud hand over his unchanged form, "tried out that watermelon diet."
"You're not supposed to swallow it whole." Red cut the man at the knees. His patience waned as it often did with the damned cretin, but then... that was the established relationship.
Red often put up with the annoyance only because 'Jelly Bean' always delivered the goods.
"That is unwise." Dembe relayed what he believed vital information. "It is a cleanse more than diet."
Red lifted wayward hands, his expression a bleak one. Antonio's expression was totally unreadable. What the hell must the guy be thinking along about now?
"It is." Dembe backed his statement. "There is not enough protein or fat... which are essential nutrients the body requires."
"What the hell, Dembe?" the larger man remained stoically silent. "You're encouraging him?!"
Antonio's eyes lit with merriment when Reddington did a double-take, his expression one of bewildered suffering and vexation.
Shaking his head sharply, Red sighed heavily, "...Anyway.."
Antonio held his smile, rather enjoying this new facet to Reddington's personality. More to the point, it amused him how easily such a minor nuisance could vex such an unshakable foe.
Before, the young man had always been stoic and focused. Now, Reddington was struck speechless and dumbfounded twice in one day.
He couldn't fault the man. Elizabeth had thrown even his seasoned self for a loop earlier in the day.
And now, this Glen Carter character was purposefully needling the man.
Reddington had the best resources available... though, Antonio had to admit, more than a few were on the eccentric side.
Whether this man could produce results on a quick need-to basis remained to be seen... Antonio would hold his opinion and judgement until a later date.
Chuckling under his breath, he refocused on the matter at hand, pointing to the information provided.
"It is as I suspected," Antonio gestured to the property located right here, in the D.C. area, "Javier and Lydia have come here... for you."
"Dembe, the phone." Red held his hand aloft, taking the dark plastic provided. "I didn't assume Javier would be so stupid..."
"Javier is not calling the shots... Lydia herself is in charge now." Antonio found the thought amusing in another way. "She does not fear you."
"She will." Red stated flatly, dialing the phone in hand. "We have planned accordingly, covered all contingencies."
"Francis has..." Antonio frowned, looking about the room, "where the hell is that boy?"
"He was dropping Lia off," Red replied, "said it wouldn't take long–Silas," he abruptly shifted his attention back to the phone, "they're here, in the city." he relayed. "Dembe is sending you updated pictures of them now."
Red perused the photos of the couple taken from a nearby surveillance system, his blood pressure rising. They appeared not to have a care in the world.
Red determined that fact would soon change.
"I don't believe they will approach the compound," Red believed those words, "but it never hurts to be cautious."
"When Liz asks why," Silas drawled, "...and she will," he waited patiently, "she is to curb any planned errands until your arrival because–"
"I have alerted Elizabeth to the problem," Red snapped before the guard could continue his needling. "She'll understand what's going on."
"Uh huh..." the guard's tone spoke of his disbelief. Liz did what she wanted to do when she wanted to do it. Especially now, after her bolstering and successful run in with Tom.
Most especially if she thought she could protect Red.
"Dammit.." Red muttered the oath under his breath, "tell her, Antonio said... stay put."
Dembe smiled when his friend scratched impatient fingers over his scalp.
Antonio's mouth pulled at the corner, understanding Reddington's pique.
He, too, had been in a similar position with his dearest friend, Giovanni and Maria, back when they first married.
More often than not, Maria listened to Giovanni over her own husband. At first, he had been insanely jealous until his own father knocked some sense into him.
It wasn't that Maria didn't believe or trust in Antonio... she just knew he didn't go into great detail about his activities and would do whatever he believed necessary to protect her from his world with or without her input.
If Giovanni concurred with Antonio's choices, Maria felt more secure everything would be all right because Giovanni was there at her husband's side.
"Oh," Silas nodded, "yeah, okay. She'll go for that."
Red sighed heavily, shrugging at Dembe's smiling face. It didn't take a genius to know the guard's response was a positive one.
"I shouldn't be much longer," Red looked at his watch. "Stay–"
"Yes, I know," Silas grumbled, having heard Red's spiel a million times, "protect Liz, give up my life for her, yada, yada."
"I was going to say, stay safe," Red shrugged, "but I like your version better."
Slapping the phone closed, he handed it to Dembe. Stepping forward, Red leaned over the table, pointing out points of access not listed on the blueprints.
"There is an access panel," Red circled a hidden door, "and keypad here." he closed his eyes, visualizing the numbers Miguel entered, mindless to the others in the room.
Antonio scowled, glancing over his shoulder at the quiet sounds of Red's informant whistling as he perused the line of weapons the men were loading for the upcoming skirmish.
The man's frown deepened when the smaller man hefted a weapon. Closing one eye, Glen took aim at a nearby wall, play-shooting at an imaginary foe.
"Phsew, phsew," Glen shot at the air, mimicking the sound of an airy six-shooter.
Ducking and weaving, he dodged imaginary return-fire before grasping his back, rubbing away a sudden ache his movements caused.
Shaking his head at the man's display, Antonio turned back to Red expectantly.
"The code is 090990," Red remembered, an air of melancholy settling over him, "the day he married Elena."
"If you want a point of entry, that's undetectable," Red gestured, tapping the precise location, "this is it. The landscaping will offer cover."
Antonio made a mental note of the code, and the door's hidden position.
"Once inside," Red said, "you will have access to a cache of weapons and the house from Miguel's office."
"It is not obvious," Antonio questioned, "the location of this office?"
"No," Red smiled, "bootleggers operated out of the house in the thirties. There are a series of tunnels, hidden passages behind walls and access panels throughout the house for fast exits."
"Ah, the good old days." Antonio's eyes lit with merriment. "I may need to purchase this little gem from Elena, keep it in the family, so to speak."
"I think she would like that." Red replied quietly before clearing his throat. "You'll have the advantage over them, using this point of entry."
Considering Raymond's mood, Dembe glanced disapprovingly at Glen's antics.
As if feeling the recoil of the weapon firing, Glen jerked back. Tripping on his own feet, the man stumbled back, catching himself on a table. Once again, more cautiously, in his world... Glen resumed his activity.
Dembe rolled his eyes heavenward, realizing had the man truly been shooting, the magazine would have depleted many times over by that point.
Grinning his merriment, Glen gave the men at the table a quick thumbs-up, only to realize all remained focused on Reddington and the men opposite him.
Flicking the safety back and forth, he enjoyed the satisfying sound of it click into place before the firearm jerked, twice, in his hand. The jarring recoil traveled up his arm, tickling his nerve-endings.
Only years of experience and instinct jolted Red back from his position.
Like previous attempts on his life, he wasn't surprised to hear the buzzing sound of a bullet cut the air where he once stood.
The brushing pass of the bullet grazing his zipper on the other hand...
The lightweight fabric of his trousers rippled when the vibration of the projectile manipulated the air, alerting Red how very close he came to losing a very vital piece of his anatomy.
"Son of a bi–" Red hissed just as another bullet tore through his flesh. "Ah...shit!"
Falling towards the table, he scrambled for purchase, sending papers and photos falling haphazardly to the floor.
Glen looked between the firearm and the growling yell across the way, mouth agape.
Antonio pulled his weapon before the smoke cleared, gesturing for his men to take position.
"Whoa!" Glen drawled, "Did you see that..." he carefully kept the weapon pointed away from his direction.
"See it!?" Red bellowed. "I fucking felt it!" he grasped his throbbing leg in an attempt to alleviate the radiating pain.
"Raymond!" Dembe's eyes widened at the sight of the surge of blood covering his friend's leg. "You have been hit!"
"Well, no shit!" Raymond snapped at the obvious.
Rushing for the man, Dembe grasped Raymond's arm, offering support as he gauged the damage done with trained eyes.
"Code 77!" Dembe gestured to Amir.
Keying in the emergency code, the guard answered the immediate response.
Placing a tight hand over his ear to better hear, Amir talked over the raised voices, impending confusion and disbelief... alerting Kaplan to their location.
"You little fucking troll!" Red grated, turning fiery eyes Glen's way.
Dembe startled in place, jerking his head towards Glen, his expression incredulous.
"It wasn't me..." Glen carelessly waved the weapon about.
Glen's eyes widened when the still smoldering barrel waved into view before swiftly hiding it behind his back.
"It could have be an assassin's bullet..." Glen explained rapidly, diverting attention, "could have come from the rooftop across the way." he gestured to the low building.
"The window isn't even broken, you dipshit." Red bit through clenched teeth.
"Then he's in this room." Glen stared suspiciously at the men about the large space. "Who's the traitor?" he demanded.
"You shot me... you idiot!" Red snapped. Turning about with Dembe's help, he slid to the sturdy tabletop, clasping his wound.
"You can't prove it was me!" Glen argued just as the weapon he bandied about once again fired.
The bullet smashed into the hard concrete floor, sending dust particles spiraling in the dank air.
Clenching his fists at his side, Red's flint like eyes zeroed in on the aura of haze surrounding his nemesis, his point made.
"Get... that... gun," Red jerked an insistent hand around Dembe, "away from that imbecile! He'll kill us all!"
"My eyesight is non-existent," Glen continued on as though nothing untoward occurred. "Ma had sepsis when I was in the womb..."
"It was not sepsis!" Red grimaced as Dembe applied pressure to the seeping holes. "Syphilis, maybe." he muttered aside to Dembe. "It would explain so much."
Glen rattled on, "I contracted cataracts complicated by glaucoma..."
"Oh, my God..." Red groaned his misery.
Antonio's attention shifted to the side door when it unceremoniously burst open, his hand tightening about his weapon.
He averted his aim as a decidedly disheveled Francis Holbrook rushed into view, taking shelter behind a tall metal bin, his mouth gaping.
"What happened!" Francis looked about frantically. His eyes widened when he saw blood saturating Red's pant leg, mindless to Glen's rambling. "What the fuck!"
Antonio scowled at the boy's rumpled and askew clothing when he inched away from the safety of his hiding spot. Francis' shirt hung free and open, his belt held by two loops flapped precariously about... he was missing a shoe.
The young man spun on his heel without another word, running from the warehouse.
"Now, where the hell is he going!" Antonio threw up incredulous hands.
Dembe scowled at Francis' hasty departure, hoping the young man would not contact Elizabeth at this point in time.
"I believe," Dembe peered closely at the wound in the low-light, "you only may need stitches?" There was so much blood, he couldn't be positive.
"...Lasik didn't take," Glen continued on, deaf to the rapid activity across the way, "on a count of my diabetes and–"
"The only thing wrong with you," Red narrowed pained eyes, "is your persistent psychosis!"
Glen carried on, "My thyroid condition–"
"Shoot him, Dembe..." Red implored as Dembe cut into his slacks, "put me out of my misery."
"You wouldn't shoot a man wearing glasses?" Glen was aghast. "It's unethical!"
Dembe smiled warmly, taking a fresh t-shirt a guard handed over. He pressed into the wound, pleased beyond measure to hear Raymond curse his vexation.
Antonio was hard pressed not to correct the man, for he knew it was a lost cause. Glen was very aware he quoted the saying incorrectly... just to rile up Reddington.
"I'll be sure to aim... above them." Red growled.
Glen balked, "And after all I've done for you?"
"Done to me!" Red jabbed a finger to the bullet wound in his leg.
Glen made to lay the weapon aside carefully but... it fired once more, jolting the man and those gathered.
All present ducked as the bullet sparked against the walls. The sound of rapid fire pings ricocheting about the confined space followed before the projectile smashed into an overhead light, spraying them with a mist of glass.
"What the hell!" Glen held the seemingly possessed firearm aloft, staring at it curiously, "this thing gives new meaning to, hair trigger!"
A guard stepped forward at Dembe's behest, grasping and holding Red's wounded appendage aloft.
"Ah, dammit..." Red sucked in a sharp breath, cursing.
Antonio approached Glen Carter, a no-nonsense look on the handsome features, yanking the weapon free from unresisting hands.
Dropping the magazine and clearing the chamber, Antonio cut a knowing look towards Glen. He lifted the mag, gesturing to the missing bullets.
"There are four rounds missing." Antonio's droll tone did nothing to appease Reddington's mood.
"Don't get on my case," Glen lifted to his toes, raising his voice, "because your men didn't load it correctly."
"Are you deranged?" Antonio wanted to know. "Never mind... forget I said anything." he waved it aside, for he knew the answer. "It was a stupid question."
As Glen opened his mouth to offer a snappy retort, all the seasoned, battle hardened men in the room reacted with overly wrought caution when the door flung open without warning. Guns lifted and aimed... lots of guns.
All relaxed in their tense stature when Francis reappeared, dragging Lia in behind him.
"Oh!" Lia's eyes bugged wide, her steps faltering for a beat... "Ohh!" her pretty eyes lit with excitement. "Sugar Cube, you were right!" she rushed past the barrage of weapons, heading straight for...
Red glanced back and forth between the pair questioningly. "What the–"
He thought Francis dropped Lia off already; so what was she doing here? More to the point, what the hell was she doing looking at his leg?
"Don't touch that!" he warned as those greedy little hands stretched eagerly for the wound.
Lia froze, a pout overtaking her features.
Francis patted her arm consolingly, gesturing for her to give him a minute to explain.
"We were," Francis shrugged his guilt, "...in the car... you know." he sing-songed his head, his expression sheepish.
Red's head fell back dramatically, just then noticing how flush the couple looked.
Francis smoothed his wildly finger tangled hair, "I lost track of time and..." he buttoned his shirt, tucking it in, "I told her to drop me off, I'd ride back with Antonio..." he continued needlessly explaining. "We were waiting, and I thought," he stressed, "because of where we're going it might be..."
"Prudent?" Antonio already knew where this was going.
"Yes, yes prudent to..." Francis shrugged, "share, well..."
Both were blind to Lia inching closer, her restless hands fluttering over Red's wounded leg.
"We get the point." Red dropped his chin, thankful Francis kept the descriptions to a minimum.
"Yeah, right so," Francis smiled, glad everyone was now up to speed, "one thing led to another and we well... you know...in the car."
"You said that.." Red sighed woefully. "Your fly's unzipped."
Francis glanced down, "Oh..."
Red recalled when his own men issued pleas for one last chance at sex before being shipped out. He also remembered more than a few neglected to mention they were being deployed not to a hot-zone but... Hawaii.
Trying a different tactic, Lia sat her bag beside Red's shin, her smile a brilliant one.
"I'm Doctor Lia Jackson," the woman's no-nonsense tone and eager demeanor told Red all he needed to know.
As did the woman rifling through the contents of her bag without even waiting for a reply.
She was hell bent on treating that bullet wound. Not for his benefit, mind you. But her own.
"We've met..." Red reminded. "We had breakfast... this morning." he glared at Francis.
"What?" Francis defended, gesturing to the supplies she was gathering. "She is a doctor!"
Red shifted exasperated eyes towards Antonio, only to find the man smirking, relishing his predicament.
"That's not what I..." he let it go. Why on God's green earth did Lia feel the repeated urge to reintroduce herself?
"Oh, hell... never mind!" Red's eyes flashed his growing disillusionment.
He watched as the woman placed sterile wipes, a suturing pack, rolls of gauze, among a dozen other products within reach. All covered in patterns containing cartoon characters and bright colors... suited for a child.
"She's a pediatrician," Francis relayed helpfully, "she's used to handling boo-boo's."
"This is my very first bullet wound though," Lia grinned, her exhilaration more than apparent. Slipping her gloves in place, she eagerly rubbed her hands together before setting to work.
"I'm so glad," Red curled tight fingers around the edges of the desktop, "I could be your first."
"Hey! I was her first!" Francis took exception to the remark.
"Well..." the woman's hesitant demeanor intrigued Red, if not a visibly upset Francis Holbrook who didn't seem to catch the moment.
"Of course you were, honey ham," Lia brightened, her bubbly mood returning post haste. "Can you hand me that pretty, shiny thingy there?"
Francis immediately obeyed, handing the suture needle over.
Resigned to his fate, Red breathed through the woman's gentle prodding.
More than confused, Red scowled when the woman began asking questions pertaining to his allergies and current medications... but answered none-the-less.
Watching her irrigate, disinfect and suture his wound... Red had to admit that Lia was proficient at her work.
"I don't have larger bandages," she mumbled mainly to herself, "but we can make do."
Relaxing back on his hands, he focused on Lia unrolling the bright yellow gauze around the wadding of absorbent material she applied moments before.
Tilting his head, he peered closer when a design came into view.
His expression did not match the pattern one iota.
Francis stepped closer, gesturing to the colorful wrap, "Oh, hey... you got smiley faces." he lifted his finger, showing off his own bandage. "I got Sponge Bob..."
"Do I even want to know..." Red didn't.
"Cut myself shaving." Francis shrugged nonchalant shoulders.
Red shook his head, digesting the words. "How the hell did you–"
"Well, you know how hard it is to shave," Francis gestured to his groin area, mimicking the movement of... juggling things.
Red's head dropped back, misery filling his soul. "I'm in hell..." it seemed perfectly clear to him. "I've died... and I'm in hell."
"Hey!" Francis scowled. "Better to cut my finger than my ball–"
"Francis!" Red snapped.
Considering she was dating the twit, he didn't think Lia felt shocked, nor even noticed the twisted conversation.
Still, a little decorum never killed anyone.
"What? It's not like there's a lady present!" Francis screwed up his face.
Red jerked a hand towards... Lia. "There is a lady present."
"She's a doctor!" Francis argued. "Besides...she's seen them."
"They are very nice, honey bear." Lia muttered, concentrating all her efforts on her task.
Francis lifted his hands, his expression lifting, "...See, she knows what I was talking about."
"Hygiene is very important to women," Dembe sagely agreed.
Rolling exasperated eyes towards his friend, Red sighed wearily when he realized Antonio was also nodding musingly, as though understanding the boy's plight.
"I wax the boys myself." Glen added his two cents.
Red grimaced, very much disliking the visual... on all levels.
Francis and Dembe, on the other hand once again... nodded approvingly.
"Doesn't it hurt?" Francis wanted to know.
"It tickles, if done right." Glen replied. "You just have her pull the boys tight and–"
"Sweet, Jesus." Red rubbed a hand against his face, desperately fighting to drown out the voices.
"What's wrong with you?" Francis frowned his concern. "Are you passing out or something?"
"I wish to God," Red prayed with all his might, hoping just once, God would listen, "...I was."
Glen noticed a swatch of Red's blood had marred the table beneath the wounded leg, he pointed,
"You should put a coaster under that...have a little respect for another man's domain why don't cha?" the little man shared his bit of wisdom with someone who would understand.
Antonio nodded sedately in agreement.
Red, chancing a glance at the individual in question, wasn't the least bit surprised to find Antonio rubbing fingers along his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Just at that advantageous moment, the sound of yet another door being yanked open saved the day.
Red closed his eyes dejectedly as Mr. Kaplan, along with a fully outfitted medical team, came hustling into the room, loaded down with equipment.
Lifting an arched brow to a reticent Dembe, "You get to explain this one." he muttered.
Dembe graciously inclined his head, taking responsibility for this incident.
Mr. Kaplan would understand why he prematurely activated, then neglected to cancel the emergency call.
When the dust finally settled, all but one off-duty paramedic had left. The man stepped in beside Lia to offer his assistance.
Red relished the ensuing quiet.
"Well," Antonio stepped up to the table as well, "this certainly takes you out of commission... doesn't it."
Red's eyes turned slowly, "Yes," his sardonic tone brought a wry smile to Antonio's face, "...I suppose it does."
He took the hit, as it were, with a grain of salt. He didn't want to be far away from Elizabeth, anyway; that had been established.
"Considering you're occupied at present," Glen who had been silent up to this point, too intent on staring openly at Lia's derriere, stepped up, "I will collect my payment later."
"Your... payment!" Red snapped dangerous eyes towards the man, "I'll tell you what you what you can do with your payment, you little weasel!"
"You're seriously going to hold this against me..." Glen scoffed his disgust. "This..." he gestured to Red's saturated with blood leg and trousers, "this little pinprick."
Red's dagger like eyes locked on the man.
"What?" Glen drawled. "I've had worse splinters!" the man's face twisted. "Got an infected one in my ass last year... gave me blood poisoning." he rattled on. "I about lost my limbs, if not my life!"
Glen's voice increased to an irritating pitch that jangled Red's already shot nerves...
He immediately pardoned the pun in his head. Frowning, Red silently wondered if he wasn't getting a bit punchy from the blood loss.
"When I get off this table," Red lowered his voice to a dangerous timbre, "I'll gladly revisit that moment with you... and complete the cycle!"
"Hold a grudge, why don't you!" Glen huffed his indignation.
Antonio stepped between the pair, producing his own wallet. He counted off a couple grand, shoving it into Glen's sphere.
Glen gaped, visibly upset for the small amount. He sputtered his disbelief.
Antonio shook his head slightly, warning the man from speaking, "Reddington will contact you... later."
Glen looked at the cash before cautiously peering around the mobster's shoulder...now, smiling, wide.
The medic beside Lia who was in the process of taking Red's blood pressure murmured to the woman, alerting her to a dangerous rise.
"You must leave," Lia pointed a stern finger, "you are upsetting my patient."
Now she speaks up? Red pressed hard into his temples, holding back the urge to blow.
"You got it, sister." Glen took the cash, shoving it in his pocket. "Gotta split, Trudy's waiting for my," clicking his tongue, he shot 'finger guns', "...special delivery."
Giving one and all a rogue wink, Glen sauntered from view.
Carelessly... impulsively sliding on the tabletop to go after the twerp, Red jerked spasmodically when an actual pinprick of pain shot through his injured leg.
"You must stay still." Lia warned, her movements practiced and precise as she threaded another safety pin in place.
Red stilled, watching Lia secure the bandaging with what looked like safety pins he once secured his daughter's diapers with. Peering closer, he confirmed they were replicas by the yellow ducks sitting at the end.
"You should invite Carter to the party." Antonio suggested. "He's an interesting guy."
"Glen? Glen Carter?!" Red voiced his disbelief. "I'd rather eat shit and die."
"Just a suggestion." Antonio's tone said otherwise. "Think about it... don't be too hasty. He makes me smile."
"He just shot me, Antonio." Red couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Ah well," the older man shrugged nonchalantly, "come on... shit happens."
Red shifted a sharp glare at Antonio, earning him... a boisterous laugh. A laugh that Red didn't know how to interpret exactly. Was it because of what Glen did... or Antonio's own propensity to shoot him?
Either way, he got the message.
He frowned curiously when Lia placed a piece of paper and a cool wetness against the back of his hand before it was lifted away a moment or two later.
Red scowled when the sound of Antonio snickering at his side drew his attention. He glanced down, huffing a choked laugh.
The absurdity of the entire farce was not lost to Red Reddington.
Having performed this task, or one much like it, countless times. Lia went through the ritual motions on automatic pilot.
As per normal operation, she ended her treatment with a temporary tattoo with a glittered shooting star that proclaimed... You're A Star!
"I knew a Dr. Jackson, once," Red watched the young woman gather her supplies.
Kaplan stepped forward, taking the bloodied rags to dispose of properly, her look a disparaging one. "Only you could get yourself into this kind of shit."
"I haven't heard from him since he went to Colorado Springs..." Red felt rather floaty suddenly. Had Lia or Kate given him something? Had he lost track in all the chaos?
"Who?" Kaplan demanded Red explain this fiasco.
"Dr. Jackson," Red repeated, "I haven't seen him for years..." he trailed off, a thought occurring.
Shrugging off the disjointed conversation, Dembe helped Raymond slide from the table.
"Huh," Red shrugged lazily, "I guess he did make it work."
"Anything happening today, Silas?" Liz asked the guard as he swept into the room.
"You are restricted to the premises," he breezed past her, glaring suspiciously at an overhead air vent.
Scowling, Liz sat forward, her attention caught. She, too, examined the small grate critically as well.
She had expected Red's directive; but Silas' strange obsession with air vents was throwing her. As was his weird tone and even weirder activities that confused and mystified.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" her eyes trailed the man's sharp, concise exploration of her space. "Besides the obvious..."
While Silas was always very thorough in his daily check of the house, she had never seen him employ such... flourish when doing so.
Besides checking his usual hot spots, he looked behind the lace curtains for a supposed intruder before dropping to his haunches, inspecting under the bed.
"There's an empty condom box under here." she heard the man mutter, before coming back into view. "You don't use condoms." the man frowned.
"And you don't have any common decency." Liz fired back. "Nor have any idea what privacy entails or–"
"You don't use condoms." the man repeated before dropping back out of sight.
"Well, then," Liz's sarcasm came with ease, "it obviously means they have disguised a bomb as a condom box, right?"
Tsking her frustration, Liz pushed from her chair, stalking to the other side of the bed. She found the man shimmying under the frame, stretching for the... threat.
"Get out from underneath there, you moron." Liz gently kicked the man's leg.
"It's that box you gave me. When I went on the date with Red..." she sighed as the box came sliding out from under the frame, shooting out five foot from their position.
The large man followed, scowling at her as he rose to his feet.
"Housekeeping is not being thorough." Silas cocked his brow.
"I'm surprised they show up at all with you lunatic bastards running around." she grumbled. "Now what's this about?" she corrected herself hastily. "Besides Red wanting me to stay put like a medieval damsel-in-distress? How archaic..."
"You know you like it." Silas lifted a knowing brow. "I bet you've even pictured him in a codpiece..."
Liz shifted her attention, turning away... remaining silent on that matter. "Stop deflecting and tell me."
Grinning knowingly, Silas sighed after a moment, "Antonio said–"
"Yes, yes," she rolled an impatient hand, "Red said it first, Antonio backed him so I would listen." she knew the drill, actually giving credence to the insanity.
"Javier and his praying mantis are here," Silas relayed the pertinent information, "...in D.C."
Liz controlled her nerves, swallowing, "Where's Red?" was her immediate concern.
The man's mouth opened to reply just as his phone started blaring a lengthy series of beeps. The sound echoed through the large estate as one after another phone went off.
"What the heck is–" Liz broke off as Silas grasped her arm, rushing her out of sight of windows and other entryways. He placed her safely at his feet in a crouched bundle of irritated ire.
He sternly pointed a finger down at her as he took a defensive position. Flipping his phone open, he hit a number, placing the speaker to his ear.
"Look, Super Fly..."
The woman fell silent immediately when Silas jerked a stilling hand.
"Understood." the man snapped into the line, yanking the radio free from his belt. "We have a Code 77."
Silas summarily informed his men, the tenseness about the guard alerting Elizabeth before his actual words.
Liz jerked upright, "What! Where is he!" Grasping the door frame, she heaved herself upward, bolting into the bathroom.
She knew that term well; her nerves were suddenly rattled and chaotic.
"We have to go!" she rushed about, grabbing the go-to bags full of Red's clothes and medical supplies. She also knew this drill.
"Assemble teams." Silas ordered, watching the woman gathering needed supplies.
Tossing the bags to the bench, she activated Red's chip on her phone, tracking his location.
"He's on the G.W Parkway..." Silas frowned his confusion. He lifted the medic bag, hefting it over his shoulder. "We'll have to intercept him or rendezvous at the designated site."
Clutching Red's clothing bag at her shoulder, Liz nervously followed her guard, meeting Joe in the foyer.
"Dembe's not answering," Joe alerted Silas, "Amir did... said Red's been shot."
Liz startled, stepping forward quickly. "Is he all right?! What do you know?" she demanded.
"Nothing," Joe grimaced, "communications halted when someone breached the building."
"Ah, shit..." Silas huffed his aggravation. "Everyone, out front, now." he ordered. Grasping Liz's elbow, he led her towards the door.
"What's the plan?" she tried to keep her tone steady and calm. She didn't succeed, she knew.
"This could be nothing," Silas' jaw tightened, "could be a trap. I want to be prepared."
Falling into step, Joe came alongside the pair, hurrying Liz to the waiting car and out of sight.
Buckling in, Liz gripped the door handle nervously, her palm sweating.
Joe pulled in behind the lead SUV, leaving another to trail them. All three sped down the road, easily taking the curves in the cumbersome vehicles.
As they were all well aware, there was a slight lag in actual coordinates, Silas could only relay Red's approximate location to the other vehicles.
Hastily unbuckling her seat belt, Liz slid to the left side of the car, searching the near distance for Red's vehicle... fixated on each black car to come into her field of vision only to feel the crushing weight of disappointment that none were his... she didn't hear her guard's demand.
"Get back in that seat belt!" Silas barked.
She peered anxiously about the tree line divide, half hearing Silas' running commentary to the others under his command, over the pounding rhythm of her heart.
"They should be around here," Silas muttered tightly, his keen eyes scanned the oncoming traffic, "... they have to be." he glanced once more at the tracker, then again at the open road.
"Where are you..." she whispered reverently, her heart going out to the one she needed most to answer.
Her hand worried the leather of the armrest with agitated fingers as she pressed closer to the glass. Squinting to see through the lush greenery, she gasped.
"There!" she lurched for the center console, pointing towards Red's approaching car. "Shit!" she damned their location. The turn around wasn't for another mile yet.
"On approach," Silas advised. He too, zeroed in on the car, directing the teams. "Go..."
The lead vehicle veered left, bouncing over the green median, cutting between the well-spaced trees with ease. The large SUV jounced haphazardly in front of them, throwing up dirt in its wake.
Getting quite the jostle in back, Liz struggled to regain her seat and replace the seat belt.
Joe followed, cursing the uneven terrain. Swerving around a rock ledge, he stayed glued to the lead car's tail.
Grasping the overhead door handle, Silas grunted, clasping his rib cage, his face a stoic mask of repressed pain.
Wincing her sympathy for the man, Liz clicked the belt into safety mode but her body was too tense to feel 'safe' as yet.
Glancing behind them, she assured the others had followed. Justin, who trained as a field medic, was right in the midst of things, keeping up admirably.
If things were dire, the young medic, along with Silas, could keep Red going until they found Kaplan's mobile unit.
She clutched the bags beside her in a death grip, rubbing her thumb along the wide straps even as Red's car came back into view on the straightaway.
Gripping the door handle in desperation, Liz willed the gap between the cars to lessen. She mentally prepared herself for what she might find, but mainly focused on joining Red... finally.
Silas jerked at his belt, mindless of the zipping song of it shooting back into place. He turned towards the door, also ready to make his move the closer they inched towards Red's vehicle.
"Honk or something!" Liz tapped Joe's shoulder, her tone tense. "Get their attention!"
Dembe's nimble fingers located the station that Raymond always enjoyed listening to. He glanced in his rear-view mirror checking on his passenger.
Sighing woefully, Red glanced at his wounded leg morosely. Sitting lengthwise in the backseat, he had a good view of his tattered trousers and the blood soaking them.
Lizzy was not going to be happy...
"I'm gonna kill him," Red murmured to no one in particular, his mood lifting somewhat at the pleasant thought... and the enjoyable sounds of jazz as it filtered through the car.
Dembe smiled, nodding his head decisively. This was not new, listening to Raymond mutter to himself about Glen's impending death. He took comfort in the sound.
"I don't know how yet," Red continued happily, "but once I know... I'm gonna kill him."
Drumming his fingers idly on the back window ledge, Red shifted his leg into a more comfortable position... tsking his disappointment.
"I wanted to dance with Lizzy," his dejected tone filled the car. "You know, at the anniversary party."
"You can, to a point." Dembe reminded. "It may pull a bit but... I've never known that to stop you from doing anything."
"Yes," Red nodded, "we can sway if nothing else, right?" he seemed a little brighter in mood.
"You can." Dembe agreed. "You adapted to Elizabeth's wounds, she will adapt to yours."
"Yes... yes, we can do that," Red decided. "I'm only sorry it won't be how she imagined."
"Yes it will," Dembe countered, "because she only expects you to be there... nothing more."
Red glanced at his friend in the mirror, falling silent, knowing the truth when he heard it.
After the events of the day, so far... he should be happy Glen didn't shoot him in the damn back.
"...You're right." Red conceded.
"I know." Dembe ended the exchange, bringing a reluctant smile to Red's lips.
Dembe glanced about, frowning.
"Something wrong," Red grumbled from the back, "... besides the obvious."
"Do you hear something?" Dembe questioned.
Red sharpened his hearing, intent on anything other than the soft hum of the car and rhythmic thump of the road beneath them.
"Sounds like a... horn?" Red frowned, for the sound repeated, as if someone had tripped an alarm.
Or... an accident had occurred ahead. The sound was growing closer.
"Slow down," Red advised, though Dembe already was, "could be trouble up ahead."
"Or..." Dembe glanced in the rearview mirror, "behind us." he gestured subtly.
Red glanced out the back window, sitting upright against the door's frame. "...Isn't that–"
"Silas," Dembe acknowledged, "...yes."
"Pull over." Red tensed, assuming trouble was heading his way.
He explicitly directed the guard to stay home until his arrival. Something was amiss, that much was certain. Maybe they had to leave. Had the enemy compromised the house?
Pulling off onto a grassy shoulder of the parkway, Dembe eased to a stop.
The SUV's immediately surrounded the car, all three sliding to an abrupt halt.
"What the–" Red startled visibly when mere seconds later the doors of the vehicles flung open.
"Oh, shit!" Red's eyes widened when Lizzy came into view, medic bag clutched tightly in hand. "Shit, shit!" he cursed his stupidity, his mood dropping into oblivion.
Justin was quick on her heels, both running at breakneck speed. The reality hit Red hard...
Of course Silas and the others had received the Code 77 alert.
"Dembe... you didn't call them!?" Red shifted his now panicked attention to the man, both grimacing for the glaring oversight.
The back door was yanked open, Lizzy's panicked face coming into view.
"I'm sorry, Raymond." Dembe apologized for the hell Raymond was about to catch.
"Red!" the woman scurried inside, searching his person quickly. "Thank God you're–"
She gasped sharply when sight of Red's bloodied and torn pant leg came into view.
"Oh, God!" she frantically searched the area, her hands shaking, but gentle as they probed the area.
"Baby..." Red caught her trembling hands, "baby, I'm fine, I'm fine." he hastily assured.
Dembe vacated the car quickly as Silas came up behind Liz, his manner stiff and alert.
Explanations were made to the ensemble. All remained alert, too keyed up as yet to relax their vigil, however.
"What happened!" Liz gaped at the tattered remains of the expensive slacks, worrying her lip. "Are you..." she looked Red over, concern etched on her face.
"I'm fine," Red stressed, "it was all a misunderstanding."
"Red! This is not a misunder..." she broke off, her eyes bugging from their sockets, "oh, my gosh! What did you do!"
Red frowned his confusion, "It was Dembe's fault." he hastily deflected the blame.
"What?!" Liz was aghast.
"It's true, Elizabeth." Dembe shrugged apologetically. "I am not yet accustom to anyone worrying about our welfare."
"Become accustom to it, Mister!" she suggested strongly. "Keep me in the loop, huh?"
Both men's heart softened.
"Well, if you didn't do it..." she gestured to Dembe just as realization dawned, her eyes widening once more.
"Red! I had Antonio calmed down!" she frowned, hard. "What did you do to make him shoot you again!?"
"Oh," Red chuckled his amusement, "no, though, Antonio probably wanted to shoot me, I'm sure." he granted. "In this case... the culprit was Glen."
"Glen!" she squawked. "The DMV guy!"
Red shrugged, not knowing what to say, really.
"How?!" Liz was at once relieved, yet... not. "Why?!" then reality hit hard. "I'm gonna kill him!" Liz pinched her lips tight.
"No, really," Red wanted to know, "I have dibs on that little cretin!"
First, they both wanted a piece of Tom, now Glen. To keep things fair, would they have to play a best two-out-of-three to see who got the right?
"Don't mess with me on this one, Reddington!" Liz narrowed her beautiful eyes.
Red opened his mouth to offer his own retort before Lizzy's steely eyes locked on his own.
"You want to keep getting laid?" Liz's eyes flicked with fire.
"... You win." Red knew when to bow out gracefully.
Justin ducked inside, "Sorry for the intrusion," he smiled apologetically, "How you doin', boss." he too noticed the bloodied pant leg.
"It's good," Red waved aside any concern, "it's taken care of, really."
Justin passed a glance over the man's leg, realizing now someone stopped the bleeding. His face went askew at the odd choice of bandaging, "If you uh... need anything..."
"Thank you, Justin." both called out to the man before Lizzy turned her attention back, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I want to know how that little troll–"
"Lizzy, I'll tell you all the sordid details," Red promised, "but first, let's get home, all right?"
"Oh, right...yes!" she scrambled from the backseat, conferring with Silas before sticking her head back through the door.
"You look settled there, I'll ride up fro–"
"You'll ride back here," Red gestured her closer, "with me."
She crawled in the back, hesitating, "...I don't want to hurt you."
"It's fine, really." he assured. "They packed it," he pressed against the big wad of bandage, "Kaplan also gave me painkiller."
Liz still inched her way inside carefully before Red offered a disgruntled sound in his throat, pulling her closer to rest against him.
"I need your warmth." he shivered, offering a pout of his own.
Liz frowned her concern, her arms embracing him tightly as she pressed closer.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she searched his face religiously.
He smiled, "I am now..."
"I'm glad you're all right," she lifted, kissing his chin, "and that Antonio didn't shoot you."
Patting her hip, Red kissed the crown of her head, "The day is young, sweetheart."
Liz's eyes surveyed the tattered remnants of Red's slacks, the now dull stain of his blood turning the material a rusty, stiff mess.
The woman's face twisted comically at one point, having noted the bright yellow gauze and duck-tipped safety pins holding the wad of padding in place.
Red resisted the urge to laugh in her face, "Mr. Kaplan's getting sentimental in her old age."
"I'm going to tell her you said that." Dembe's soft voice filtered from the front seat.
Red chuckled his amusement.
"Lia was there?" Liz sat up, her expression ready to be hurt.
"How do you know that?" Red was mystified.
"She's a pediatrician." Liz waved a hand over the evidence. "Who else would use bandaging like this? She can be there, but I can't?"
"It was not planned, believe me." Red headed off a confrontation. "We have Francis to thank for that debacle."
"Well?" Liz demanded the tale be told, settling back for the duration, her arms crossed over those beautiful breasts.
"Honey, I really don't know where to begin." Red told the truth.
He tried to fit the bits and pieces of the bizarre events into some sort of order.
Dembe assisted when Red's pain meds blurred a moment here and there.
"They were having sex in a car?" Liz's face was priceless. "The cheap ass bastard. He can afford a hotel!"
"I don't think that's the point of the story, but..." Red shrugged. Why Dembe had brought up the incident at all was a mystery. "So after that smarmy bastard shot me..."
"Who the hell gave him a weapon?" Liz demanded to know.
"No one gave it to him." Red defended all, but didn't really know why he felt the need.
"But no one took it away?" Liz needed clarification.
"An excellent point." Dembe nodded sagely, as Raymond's eyes bore into the back of his head.
Red's expression was synonymous with exasperation and growing torment, "Stop narrating, Dembe...really."
"Francis cut himself shaving." Dembe ignored the plea.
"With an electric shaver?" Liz sighed. "How the hell does he manage these things?"
"Why must you ignore me?" Red needed to know, asking imploringly to an obviously oblivious Dembe Zuma. "I just asked you–"
"It was not an electric shaver, nor was he shaving... normally." Dembe executed a perfect right turn.
"You felt the need to clarify." Red nodded, sitting back, resigned.
"Oh, my goodness." Liz got the drift of Dembe's subtle drift. "Well... yes, it's a tricky area to," she scrunched her nose charmingly, "... work around, I suppose."
Her brow crinkled as she lost herself in thought, trying to visualize man's struggle.
"It is." Dembe agreed.
Red looked back and forth between the two, his expression a comically awry one.
"How did this subject... arise?" Elizabeth was understandably curious.
"You know how Francis' balls always come into play during any polite conversation." Red fell into the fray.
The old, if you can't beat em, join em, mentality worked every time for the most part.
"This time was no exception." Red finished amiably.
"Oh, Red," Liz tsked, "be serious."
"Glen waxes his," Red brightened. That was a tidbit surely designed to pepper any conversation.
"He... what?" Liz was lost.
"His balls," Red teased, "keep up with the conversation, Lizzy."
"Eww," the woman grimaced away the subject. "You know, women are so accustomed to... that," she touched Red's forearm, getting his full attention, "we barely notice it anymore."
Red's brow cocked, "Really..." he was interested.
"Are men the same way?" Liz was... interested.
The envoy pulled into the gates of the residence, and Red was never so glad.
"Saved by the bell.." he breathed a sigh of relief.
Not that he did not wish to continue that line of discussion, especially one revolving around Lizzy's genitals... he just hoped to do so without such a captive audience.
A flurry of activity followed as security piled from the vehicles. Some returned to their positions, while others went on to enjoy their well-deserved time off.
"...Red," Liz scooted aside as the men aided Red, sliding him from the car, "you didn't answer me."
Rushing to keep up with the ensemble, Liz made her way through the hallowed halls of the stately mansion
"No, Lizzy," Red called back over his shoulder, "I know I didn't."
The woman pulled up short, a little crestfallen.
Moments later, once ensconced inside the security of the master bedroom, Liz glanced Red up and down as he limped to a nearby bench.
"What's the plan?" Silas spread his hands, having dismissed the crowd.
"We're covered." Red waved a hand. "I'll get cleaned up, I guess."
"We can do that." Liz was positive.
"We can do it." Red informed the head guard.
"Then do it." Silas shrugged the issue away. "Call if you must." and with that, the man left.
"Who was that masked man?" Liz quipped lightly. "Well, fella... let's get you down to the well."
"Gonna push me in with Lassie and Timmy?" Red struggled aloft with the woman's assistance.
"You would drown," Liz chuckled, "with your bum leg. You sit, I'll grab the essentials and set the shower temp."
Red didn't fight the flow, struggling with his clothes as he watched Lizzy traipse about the massive room collecting items.
"Baby, I can do this."
"Would you pass up a chance to see me naked?"
"Have you ever known me to?" he countered.
"Then don't rain on my parade." she stated, kneeling before him. "Those are toast." she motioned to his trousers. "We'll get you sans clothing and then I'll do my voyeur thing as you shower, good deal?"
"For you..."
Liz guffawed her doubt, "Don't get cocky." she fell silent as the man divested himself of the blood-soaked boxers he wore and his flaccid cock came into view.
Liz told herself; as her gaze remained centrally fixed and steady, she was checking for injuries.
That's what she told herself, but the truth was, she enjoyed looking at the man's body.
She gave a slow passing glance to Red's pelvic area, enjoying the view offered her.
She hadn't truly taken the time to note just how well-groomed Red was before.
Dembe's mention of a man's need to prepare himself for a woman's appreciation, as in Francis' case, had started Liz on a journey of exploration she couldn't say she didn't relish.
"...Anything wrong?" Red glanced superficially to check.
"Oh, no..." Liz was quick to reassure. "I can assist in there," she motioned to the shower, "if you need it. Gonna be hard for you to get to everything, I think."
"Are you seriously asking me if I mind you sudsing me down?" the guy's incredulous expression amused the woman. "...Really?"
She chuckled, "Well, I know how your masculine pride might sustain injury were I to assume you couldn't tend to yourself."
Red limped to the mirror, peering hard at the stubbled face that stared back. He ran a hand across the scratchy cheek.
"Gorgeous, naked woman trumps masculine pride anytime."
"I'll remember that for future reference." she promised. She stood back, hands demurely folded, watching his movements and actions.
Noticing Lizzy's preoccupation, Red's lips pulled into a knowing grin, but otherwise... stayed silent.
Liz had noticed how desirable his cock was in a sensual capacity, but had never intently focused on how attractive the entire package was until this moment in time.
Even flaccid, his cock hung heavy and thick, well below his sack. Liz caught herself more times than she could count, watching the heavy weight jostle against his thigh as he walked. Whether the man was aroused or not, each time she saw the wide head of his glans, she ached poignantly.
He was very clean and incredibly masculine... and even blood caked as he was now, a virile masculinity emanated from his being.
Her gaze now wandered over the smattering of perfectly trimmed blonde curls on his pubic bone and testicles, her mind fantasied freely on the matter.
"I do it myself." Red answered the question hanging heavy in the air.
Liz blinked, breaking her intent perusal of Red's anatomy. "...What?"
"You're the only one I let near my... equipment." he cupped himself, running a hand through the fine hair. "The rest, I deal with... myself."
She grasped his meaning, nodding. "I find it very appealing." she told the truth. "Should I not... look."
Funny how she never noticed or even remembered previous partners. They served their purpose, at the time, that's all she could recall.
"Did I say stop?" he grinned. "It pleases me, you find me interesting enough to... want to look."
In intimate things she once kept secret or behind closed doors... Liz now shared with Red, openly. It felt perfectly natural and even sensual, allowing him such freedom.
"It would be like denying me the pleasure of admiring a Rodin sculpture, were you to refuse me access, in any form." he sought his electric shaver absently.
Relying on previous images flashing in his memory, Red's eyes swept her sensual body, hesitating on the topic of interest.
He wouldn't mind if Lizzy went fully natural, to be honest. He would more than happily dive into that plush bush; he found her that damned appealing.
"I would never deny you," she shook the long tresses negatively, holding her smile.
"Oh, I know that," he...knew.
"I would have assumed you turned a fatalist after today," she teased, "never say never, and all that."
"I'm too beat to fully appreciate the fatalist attitude," Red confessed, tossing the shaver aside. "...and this can wait until later, I think."
"Then do that," Liz suggested. "Should I get your pajama bottoms?"
Red stepped off towards the shower, "I really don't care right now."
His body temperature always rose exponentially after being wounded.
Besides... it felt good to go naked in actuality. He obviously wasn't going anywhere, so he might as well get comfortable.
Not averse to the view afforded her, Liz smiled happily.
"I'll turn the bed down and grab something on a tray if you're sure you can manage." she checked. "You need to keep up your strength."
"Why, are you going to take advantage of me," he halted at the shower's entrance, "... hopefully?"
"You couldn't handle it," Liz rolled her eyes. "You should get off that leg, if anything."
"I'll be on my back... you do the work." he spread his hands.
Liz shook her head, smiling softly, "I always do, honey."
His look tickled her. She laughed fully, "You should see your face... it's quite adorable."
The man relented, stepping in the shower, "...Always stabbing a man where it hurts most..."
A short time later, Red slid back to lean against the pillows Lizzy had fluffed. Sighing his relief to be off the leg, he basked in the silence of the room.
Red smiled warmly when the woman entered, tray loaded with goodies in hand. She kicked off her shoes, making her way to the side of the bed.
"Well," she smiled, sitting the tray aside, "can you reach everything?"
She worked her black leggings over the shapely hips and to the floor. "These things need to go!"
Red agreed as he watched her shimmy out of her bra and panties as well, making herself comfortable for the duration.
He held out his hand, pulling her atop the mattress, skimming her nude frame with an appreciative gaze.
She was an exquisite woman.
Lifting to her knees, Lizzy gave him an unfettered view of her creamy skin as she reached and removed her little socks.
"Let me get my robe."
"You do and I'll hurt you." Red warned.
She chuckled, "Well, how can I act the part of hostess," she motioned to the snack tray, "if I'm in the all-together?"
"How can you not?" he countered.
His eyes followed the dark swish of her hair tickling the sloping curves of her breasts, down the sinewy slope of her stomach and hips, to the dark patch on her mons.
Dropping to her hands, she crawled towards him, a secretive smile curving her sensual mouth.
His eyes flit over the long line of her back, watching her bare rump move as she neared him.
That had to be as captivating a sight from the back as it was from the front.
Lifting his arm in welcome, he smiled his contentment when her warm, soft skin came flush with his. Her plump breast lay gently against his side, her mons snuggling to his thigh.
"The establishments you frequent," she whispered conspiratorially, "have jaded your outlook on everyday life, and even proper decorum."
Laying her head against his shoulder, she nuzzled in, sighing her own contentment.
"I can live with that truth." he advised.
"You've had quite a morning," she threaded her fingers through the curls on his chest, "haven't you."
"This morning was... spectacular." was his considered opinion.
"You consider being shot, spectacular?" Liz giggled.
"My morning with you, was spectacular." Red corrected. "What happened after that... is something out of the Twilight Zone."
His eyes softened when he felt her cheek plump against his chest. He knew she felt anxious, even scared, earlier. But now that she could find some humor in what happened... was a great relief.
It had to be difficult to be a part of his world on the best of days, but Lizzy was handling it very well, he thought.
When shit like this happened; that he knew she was learning to brush it off and not let it frighten her... well, it was a tremendous weight lifted off his shoulders.
"Red, I have to know..." she snuggled more comfortably against his side, "... why did you really hit Silas?"
Having expected this question sooner or later, Red answered honestly. "Because, I don't want you to do anything you aren't ready for just because Silas thinks it will get rise out of me."
"But I do want to experiment with you..." she countered quietly.
"And that's fine," Red agreed, "but, do lets do it in our own time." he said. "Are you in agreement with that?"
Burying her nose in Red's chest, she muffled her giggle, nodding. "All right, we can do that."
Laying his cheek against her dark hair, they relaxed in the quiet, their hands seeking to touch and be touched.
Liz's eyes grew heavier the longer Red's long fingers stroked her back, the sense of comfort he offered, settling her earlier rattled nerves.
"Lizzy," he idly rubbed his fingers into her scalp, "I can't reach the Ritz crackers."
"..I see that," Liz sighed lightly, too lethargic to do more.
"I'm starving," he produced his best pout.
She laughed, obediently scooting away, "Talk about a mood breaker."
Stacking meats and cheeses diligently, Liz grasped the wine bottle once she handed off her creation.
"Why did you assume the role of an escort?" he had wondered all last night and sporadically throughout the morning on the matter.
"I'm not," she was confused, "I'm a hostess."
"I meant... last night." he clarified. "Why that particular scenario?"
"Because, I knew you needed me," she shrugged, "I just didn't know in what capacity, and you weren't about to tell me."
Liz settled on her legs, watching the man devour his food.
"I met an escort once," she pulled the sheet over her chilled legs, falling into the story, "at work. Interviewed her about men she had... associated with."
Red listened intently, more than interested to see where this was going.
"She said, sometimes they wanted sex," she shrugged the obvious, "but sometimes, they just wanted companionship or even a massage."
"Did I make you feel you had to," Red frowned, "do any of those things with me."
"I had a plan..."
Red's frown deepened, not following.
"You were very upset, Red." Liz reminded. "You were making it very clear you didn't want me to be any part of that, at the time." she said. "But I couldn't just leave you..."
Lifting her hand in his, Red placed a small kiss to her slender fingers. "I was a veritable asshole."
"Let's say instead," she debated artfully, "I had never been put in that position before."
Red nodded, "I try so hard not to do so, ever."
"I know, but the reality was...if I really couldn't reach you," she continued, "if I couldn't sway you to vent with me..."
Red's eyes closed, a sudden wave of understanding washing over him.
"I wasn't turning you away..." he concluded, "I was only trying to get you to a safe place where–"
"I had my cushion to fall back on, either way." she reminded herself more than the man. "I had a safe place to go. I made one for myself, don't you see?"
"I'm sorry you felt the need to resort to that." Red apologized. "That I put you in an impossible–"
"That's the thing," Liz interrupted, "you didn't! I felt perfectly at ease, don't you understand."
Red frowned, not certain he did.
"I could have never done... what I did with Tom," she hastened to explain, "or anyone else."
Red tilted his head, listening. He was eager to understand the issue.
"You make me feel it's okay to," Liz wondered how to phrase the next part, "... to attempt what I did. You don't make me feel it's wrong to... roleplay."
"Why the hell would I? Would any man?" Red confessed. "I learn more about where your interests lay, what you enjoy... what you don't. There is not one negative aspect of 'role playing' that should negate the intimacy between a man and woman."
She felt the same, both on an emotional and physical level.
"While I am sorry you felt you couldn't approach me as yourself," Red clarified, "I am grateful you felt comfortable enough to find a way to knock some sense into me."
"Once I realized you needed to vent and have control," Liz continued, "I knew you would respond more openly to those needs if I retained that... role."
She was right. While they had enjoyed vigorous lovemaking on more than one occasion...
Red would have never been so open to controlling the situation as he had or allowing himself to act freely... without the role she assumed.
More importantly, the safe word he felt so adamant about hopefully conveyed to his lover, even when he was at a loss of control... her well-being was of the utmost importance to him.
"Did you really enjoy yourself, Lizzy?" Red wanted to know. "Did it truly live up to your expectations?"
"It did," she admitted. "So much so, I would like to explore that more," she lifted expectant eyes, "if you are interested?"
Red was more than interested in her proposal.
"I always wondered what it would be like... to have an assertive lover." Liz divulged.
Hearing those words, Red relaxed further into the bedding. She wasn't just feeding a fantasy. He wasn't seeing just what he wanted to see.
"You understand," he began, unsure how to voice his desires exactly, "I am content to make love to you... and nothing more, correct?"
"I am." she replied without hesitation. "I am also aware you are a very intense and passionate man, Red Reddington." she smiled warmly.
She knew Red loved her and relished the intimacy they shared. She, too, enjoyed when they made love.
"That you wish to release that intensity and passion with me," she cut to the chase, "does not negate the fact you love me."
Red couldn't have put that better had he tried, and he had been trying to form the words.
"There is another side to that coin..." Red held her eyes with his own, hopefully conveying his meaning before vocalizing the words.
"I do want to fuck you..." he didn't deny it. "You understand the subtle difference. I know you do."
"Of course, I do." she assured, "God knows, I would revel in you craving me to that extent. Would and do."
"You don't know how deeply my need runs, Elizabeth." he questioned the validity of that statement.
"Probably as deep as my own need." she countered. "I am not a fragile little waif, Red. I'm flesh and blood like you. I have... fantasies."
The sudden urge to know those fantasies clawed at him like an incessant itch.
"Just this morning, the need to feel your cock was so intense," she openly confessed, "I wanted you to push me against the wall and fuck me hard and fast, like you meant it." she continued, "I needed you to ease the ache so desperately... there are no words."
Visions of his large hands cupping her ass and driving his cock up into her wet pussy, hard and fast, filled his imagination.
"When you take me from behind and refuse me the ability to move away," she closed her eyes, allowing the visual, "I love the ferocity of your thrusts," she warmed to expressing her needs, "how you demand more than I think I can give but then... you make me want to try so very hard."
"...Jesus Christ..." he whispered his growing arousal.
Was it getting abnormally hot in here, was a fever setting in from his wounds.
"You make my fantasies a reality even when I don't know I'm even having them." Liz's arousal spiked with that revelation.
What a delirious, wondrous emotional state.
"There's something almost," she sighed blissfully, "...it feels almost... feral, like you're claiming me as your mate." she bit her lips, squirming about. "I suppose it's a bit... primitive to feel such a thing, but I just loved the sensation so damned much!"
"There isn't a day or night that passes," his roughened voice tickled her senses. "I don't need you sexually, in the worst possible way."
Liz's heart fluttered in response to the conviction in his voice.
"I won't lie, Elizabeth. I don't want to just fuck you," he confessed his own desire, stumbling over the words "I very much want to control your pleasure," he expressed his own needs, "The desire to possess you entirely... to be assertive, is very much a fantasy of mine."
Liz watched Red's cock stir to life against his thigh. The heavy weight jostled, causing a thick warmth to wet her thighs in response.
"Okay...we have to curb this," she remembered his injuries, "we probably shouldn't be talking like this now," she made to turn to her side and cuddle back into him.
"It's gone past that time," his fingers curved about her waist, holding her stationary.
"Red..." she placed her palm against his pectoral.
"I told you," his rough and rasping voice tickled her ear, "do not test my patience... or I would give into what I need."
Liz yelped her surprise when Red roughly pulled her across his chest. She gasped when her thigh brushed along the bandaging on his leg.
"Are you crazy!" her hands fluttered about his chest, desperately trying to find her equilibrium. "When you're better we–"
"Oh, no..." he grasped her leg, pulling it across his hip, settling her astride his lap, "you started this..."
"I gave you food!" she argued. "That's all and shared an innocent confess–"
She exhaled shakily when his large hand palmed her bottom, allowing his now straining cock freedom to seek what it wanted. Her ass rocked instinctively towards the hard length, pushing the fat head against her clit.
"... Now, you're going to finish it." Red's expression brooked no argument, his eyes already dark with growing lust.
"Oh, am I?" she trembled with excitement. "Who died and made you king..." she bristled with growing arousal.
"Move back," he warmed to the demand, gently pushing her hips back, "...take it." his tone implied just 'what' he had to offer.
"I don't think so!" she fought the valiant fight, shoving at his shoulder, but not too awfully much to his way of thinking.
Red's heart thumped hard in his chest, feeling Lizzy's body tremble with arousal. She could try to hide how turned on she was right now... but the damp muff brushing against his abdomen gave her away.
"Do as I say..." his rough voice demanded she comply.
Closing her eyes, she reveled in Red's commanding presence, suddenly tingling all over. She felt light-headed and on edge. Her stomach pitched, tugging at her now throbbing center.
"...Do you really want to find out just how hard I can fuck you," Red's voice dropped dangerously, "bum leg or not."
She scooted back until the thick width of his glans pushed against her opening. Her brow furrowed, her mouth parting sensually.
"If you strain yourself," she attempted a sullen pout, "I'll be very unhappy."
"I'll take that under advisement," using his good leg, Red pushed up into her warmth, groaning his relief.
"I hope you break something?" she slid onto the thick shaft, sighing blissfully as the thickness inched into her tight core.
Smiling, Red captured her luscious mouth, flicking his tongue sensually against hers.
"All that's gonna transpire here," he clamped tight hands around her busy hips, "is me breaking this little cunt of yours in."
"Yeah, yeah," she curved her fingers into his pecs, "you men are all talk." she kissed him passionately.
"Now, be quiet." she planted her hands, her movements fluid and involved. "You're screwing with my concentration."
"...I'm screwing something," Red couldn't help point out the obvious, "that's for sure."