Author Note: Sorry I couldn't get the entire chapter posted. I hope to get the remained posted in a few days' time. :)
LIZZINGTON
Reluctantly sliding the phone into the pocket of her sweater, Samar made her way out of the RV, her mind still very much with Silas and his troublesome mood.
She pulled up short, gasping sharply, her eyes widening and blinking their shock as a shrill whistle caught her off guard.
"Sorry." Red grinned over at her. "Just calling in the troops." He motioned to some unseen place out in the forest.
"Did he scare you, snookums?" Francis was instantly by the woman's side, giving Red a severe frown of disapproval.
Samar stilled her pounding heart. "Well, there is a bomb guy just across the way there. One could let a girl know if something was about to startle her."
Francis grinned and sat down, pulling her to his lap, snuggling her. "Red, you scared my pooh bear."
Sighing lightly, Samar gave the young man a chastising look. She felt too good to really put her heart into any scolding, though. Silas' call had lifted doldrums she didn't even know she had.
"Pooh bear?" Liz grimaced at the term of endearment. "What is it with you and these rather morbid–"
"Please," Francis pseudo-gagged, "if Red called you that, you'd melt into a puddle of goo."
"I don't think so..." Liz scoffed openly, checking with a grinning Samar. "Women do not appreciate–"
"You don't want to be my pooh bear?" Red tugged Lizzy into the cradle of his body, rumbling low against the soft shell of her ear. A sensual chuckle followed when he felt her shiver involuntarily.
Francis' knowing smirk told her he knew just how affected she had been. "And some women... do." In his own inimitable fashion, he threw his hand out to illustrate just who that might be.
Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Red reached back for his weapon, only releasing his hold on the cool metal when he saw friendlies approaching. He hadn't realized just how tightly wound he was until that moment.
"Looks like we're going to need more burgers." He took over the grill, removing the slow cooked steaks while he was at it.
"When was the last actual sighted report on McSha?" Red queried the Canadian team as they all made themselves at home around the two picnic tables. He kept his voice low, of course, seeking out the leader of the group, casually handing the guy a Coors.
"He came out about an hour before your arrival to fetch more firewood." The guy accepted a plate from Lizzy. "We waved."
Red held his smile. "Did he wave back?"
"He did, actually." Another of the team seemed happily surprised by the fact. "Well, he nodded and smiled a hello of sorts."
"We faked an argument, which he stayed around to see the outcome." The leader, Evan Meyers, was good at his job. "I thought it might seem more natural if something like that occurred. He's Irish." Meyers explained his reasoning. "We thought that's how the Irish might do it."
"Anyway," plates were passed around amiably as the night shift loaded up on the provisions, "he sat outside for a while, watching our game, then he went back inside. Haven't seen him since."
"He seemed relaxed...not stressed or anything." One of Meyers' men stated.
Red held his opinion on the matter.
"The second team is in place, of course. Two exits to the cabin, both covered. All escape routes are under surveillance. We're not underestimating the man, however. We are aware of his reputation."
Red nodded. "When you guys leave, just make it amenable. Drift off in small units."
"When do we move in?" Meyers had been given orders to follow this man's lead.
"I'll know when the time comes. Just be ready." Red didn't have any set plan. Plans had a habit of going awry where McSha was concerned.
As dinner wound down, all gravitated towards the fire, eating the remnants of pie or drinking their choice beverages.
Crouching beside the fire, Red stirred the embers before tossing another log into the pit. Waving it with his hand, flames billowed upward in the matter of seconds.
Glancing up at his wife, Red shrugged when the woman gave him a long-suffering look before crossing her arms over her chest.
"I make you fire," He grunted primitively, earning a barely contained smile.
"Show off..." Liz grumbled. "The caveman routine doesn't work on me, just so you know." Pushing his legs apart, she sat in the open space, leaning back against his chest.
Opening himself to Lizzy's desired closeness, Red absently watched the woman get comfortable. "No?"
"...No." Liz decided with a firm nod.
Threading his fingers through the heavy length of the woman's hair, Red swung it to the side, unveiling the slope of Lizzy's neck.
"I thought you liked when I pulled your hair," Red murmured before gently tugging the dark strands.
Lowering his mouth to Lizzy's shoulder, Red bit back a smile when he felt a definite shiver of delight traverse her spine.
"Well," Liz conceded, "I mean, I like that... but I'm not so sure about the dragging me around part."
"Well... that's something we can try this weekend, eh?" Red snickered as Lizzy glowered at him over her shoulder.
"S'mores, anyone?" Francis broke the quiet, holding his gift aloft.
"Really?" Samar perked up considerably, her interest on the items in Francis' hand.
"Yes, really." Francis beckoned the woman over. "You didn't think I'd let you down, now did you?"
"No..." Samar offered Francis an ecstatic smile, taking the graham crackers handed over.
Liz chuckled under her breath when Red lifted an askew brow in response to the unexpected exchange.
Taking the box of crackers handed him, Red smiled when Lizzy eagerly tore into the package, gathering the needed supplies.
"How do I properly construct this?" Samar asked, curiously holding her marshmallow and chocolate aloft. The woman's confusion grew when handed a long brittle branch.
Grinning, Liz waved Samar closer, giving her a rundown on how to build a perfect S'more.
"You stick the marshmallow on the stick like this," handing a sticking off to Red, Liz tossed her legs over the man's thigh as she turned towards the fire.
Shrugging, Red gamely shoved the fluffy white orb on the end of his makeshift skewer and held it over the open flames, slowly spinning it so it wouldn't burn.
"You hold it over the flames," Liz led by example, "and wait until it's a golden color."
"When it's done," Francis took over the explanation, as his marshmallow was perfectly toasted, "you smash it between your graham crackers and chocolate," he lifted his own gooey concoction with a bright smile, "...and enjoy."
Shifting her eyes towards Liz and Reddington, Samar followed her friends' movement until she, too, was holding a perfectly toasted S'more.
"Blow on it!" Liz blurted, catching Samar before she could take a bite of the steamy morsel.
"Right, yes." Samar obediently blew on the oozing goo. Her mouth suddenly watered when the rich scent of melted marshmallow and chocolate tickled her nostrils.
Taking a tentative bite, Liz sighed her bliss as the sweet treat touched her tongue before Samar followed suit.
Red's mouth ticked at the corner as the sound of moans of delight came at him in surround sound. In the next instant, he felt his cock stir to life in response to the feeling of his wife wriggling happily about.
The sensation was reminiscent of when she sat astride his pelvis, while naked. Images of the woman pushing his shaft deep into her body as she experienced the joy of climax was one he knew well, and pictured often as stress relief. It never failed to deliver the needed, and desired, results.
"Oh... my... god." Samar murmured her awe, eagerly taking another bite.
"I think I just creamed my shorts." Francis whispered his distress, gaping openly at the dark-eyed beauty.
"Oh...yeah." Samar sighed blissfully.
"Uh hmm..." Liz commiserated with her friend, mewling her own contentment.
"Either that's better than expected," Red murmured in Lizzy's ear, "or you're coming... now, which is it?"
"I'm treading a fine line." Chortling, Red kissed the corner of Lizzy's mouth when the woman closed her eyes, savoring the gooey concoction.
Ducking his chin, Red hurriedly bit back a bark of laughter when Francis eyes bulged from their sockets. The boy damn near drooled when Samar licked a long line along the rim of her cracker, catching a dollop of white cream before it could drip to the ground.
"No," Francis didn't dare blink lest he miss the show, "I know I creamed my drawers."
Shoving the last crumbs into her mouth, Liz sighed her disappointment until she noted a nearly complete S'more dangling from Red's fingers. Starting covetously at the sweet treat, she licked her lips hungrily.
Noting Lizzy's attention, and where it was directed, Red smiled before handing it over without complaint.
"Best... husband... ever." Liz snatched up the offering.
"You know I love you, baby." Red said, enjoying the sight of Lizzy stuffing her face.
Blowing out a controlled breath, he was loath to admit he also very much-loved watching Lizzy lap away the thick white cream oozing freely between her fingers.
One would hope she would gift him a repeat performance later... only he would be on the receiving end of that talented tongue.
Biting into the perfectly melted goodness, Liz felt a shiver of pure elation course through her body. "Oh, I love you... so, so much."
Laughing quietly, Red drew Lizzy to rest against him, snuggling her in close. Not wishing to interrupt her nirvana, he lay a gentle kiss on the dark strands of her hair in an added show of affection.
The Canadians soon drifted to their tents a few at a time until the only ones remaining were Red's people.
Staring off into the fire, Red brought his beer to his lips, sipping the cold beverage languidly. "If you were McSha, what would make you come out of that cabin?" He had been pondering the question for quite a while in his own mind.
Silence met with the question for a long beat.
"Well, if that cabin was on fire, maybe I would come out... rather quickly." Dembe's suggestion met with a few smiles.
Danny grinned as he gently slid his now warmed pie off the rack and onto his plate. "What a diabolical mind you have there, Dembe."
"Some supposed emergency?" Francis added his thoughts. "How chivalrous is McSha? Anyone really know the guy?"
"You mean...if a damsel was in distress, say?" Liz wasn't sure she was following.
"We can't approach that place for any reason. He'd be expecting it or at the very least...be suspicious and on-alert then." Harper would be, he knew.
"Then he has to come to us." Red had always known that.
"We could set this RV on fire." Dembe glanced at the cumbersome vehicle thoughtfully. "It would be all hands-on deck to put it out."
Red glanced as well, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Four guys just left us. Six here. We could put it out ourselves." He grimaced. "No reason for him to help, really, but good thinking on your part, Dembe."
"What if I innocently take a walk by myself and one of you follows behind me, acting suspicious? The sun is setting, and it's beautiful out here, after all." Samar shrugged. "He might think something's off-kilter and come to help me out of a possible sticky situation. Especially if I go over and offer him some pie now."
"I thought you said we shouldn't approach that cabin." Liz vetoed the suggestion, her expression a concerned one. "And why can't I offer him the pie?"
"If McSha's been watching," Francis gave the woman a lackadaisical look, "then he's noticed you've been sucking on Red's face all night." He said. "It's slutty to offer another man your pie, especially in front of your husband." He motioned to Red. "Have a little decorum, damn!"
"Are you speaking metaphorically or something?" Liz's brow furrowed hard.
"Well, what the hell are you saying?" Francis wanted to know.
"I meant actual pie, you dummy." Liz huffed irritably.
"...Oh." Francis shrugged.
"No one is offering the guy pie," Red vetoed any further discussion on the matter. "In any form."
Harper and Daniel shared a quiet laugh, enjoying Red's sudden pique.
"But it makes sense. We're just being neighborly." Samar reasoned. "Isn't that what campers do?"
The men traded subdued glances. "No, campers mind their own business unless invited." Red stated succinctly.
"Then how are we going to get him out of the cabin?" Samar wanted to know.
The silence returned. Red listened to the sound of the slight wind rustling the trees surrounding the campsite. Night birds called to one another, cicadas buzzed...the gurgle of the nearby stream bubbled over the rocky surface of the riverbed.
He sighed more than heavily. "No, Dembe... we're not setting the forest on fire." He had noted the guy glancing surreptitiously about the pristine woods.
Offering the man a consoling pat on the shoulder, Harper handed Dembe a handful of branches in hopes it cured the man's doldrums.
Taking the bundle, Dembe shuffled through the bunch until a stick caught his fancy. Holding it over the open fire, the kindling burst into flames as Dembe stared, transfixed and unblinking, into the dancing flame.
"There's a river right over there, Red." Francis helped out. "It doesn't have to be a big fire."
"No fires!" Red snapped his growing disillusionment.
Dembe threw the stick he was musing over into the fire pit, his expression bemused.
"Why don't we just wait until he's loading up tomorrow to leave?" Liz asked plaintively.
The suggestion caused the men to halt all activity. Samar waited patiently while all males processed the idea, holding her smile.
"Uh," Red shared a scowl with his contemporaries, "... maybe that would work."
"Yeah." Samar nodded sagely. "Maybe it would."
Liz was hopeful. "You think?" She wrung her hands anxiously. "It seems like it would be a good time to approach him."
"Might be a good time, yeah," Red agreed, though silently worried he was hanging with Francis too much that the obvious had not occurred to him. No, that wasn't it at all, surely. He was just impatient, that's all. Yes, that made sense.
Dembe's expression was a sour one. "I'm voting for a fire."
Everyone looked the guy's way. Red lifted his brows but remained stoically silent this one time.
"I'm voting to go take a shower." Samar moved the conversation along. She clapped her hands together cheerfully. "I've heard a lot about these antiquated camp ones. Are you with me, Liz?"
"You know I am." Liz was happy again. "I remember them from my childhood. The water pressure was amazing!"
"We have a shower in the RV." Red motioned accordingly.
Both women stopped in their hurry to get some towels and shampoo and head out. The look they gave was not exactly an encouraging one.
"Don't be raining on our parade." Liz suggested strongly.
Red threw up his hands in defeat. "Far be it from me to spoil anyone's fun...take Francis with you." He motioned absently, reaching for his ringing phone.
"Yeah." The kid was up like a shot. "Take me with you, angel eyes. I want to see you basking under the hot torrent of water as frothy suds cascade down your flesh and slink into the sweet crevices of your voluptuous body." He mooned dreamily.
All stopped in their tracks, giving the man a blank look.
"What?" Francis glanced about, his hands lifting at his sides.
"Anyway..." Red turned his back, answering his phone.
"Francis, the men's showers are next door. It's not co-ed." Liz pointed an accusing finger. "And you better make sure it stays that way."
"Buzz killer." Francis rolled his eyes.
Red held up his hand for silence or a facsimile thereof. "I'm sorry, Harold. Our gang is having a quiet discussion about the pros and cons of arson," he lied as it was safer to do so, "...what did you say?"
"Where the hell are you?" Harold asked impatiently. "And do you have my agents?"
"Last time I checked, we were in Canada, and yes, both lovely ladies are present and accounted for." Red checked the surrounding forest and area superficially. "They're going for a shower. It's just after sundown here. How's the weather in D.C.?" He said, watching Lizzy and Samar disappear into the RV.
"What the hell is going on? You told us you'd be in at nine." Cooper was fuming.
"There was a slight change of plans. Nothing earth-shaking, you understand, but we improvised on the fly." Red related. "It's working out well, actually. I'll explain everything when we get back. Too many flies on the proverbial wall here." He listened politely for some few moments. "I don't think there is any real need for that kind of language, Harold. There are ladies present, after al–"
Grimacing, Red held the phone away from his ear. "You'll thank me for this in the end. I'm saving your agents a lot of red tape and trouble...not to mention your budget for all those plane fares you didn't have to utilize."
Liz bounded down the stairs, towel and toiletries in hand. She kissed his cheek on her way past. "We won't be long... honey bear."
Red scowled slightly, his eyes lowering to her ass as she passed. "We have it all sorted out, Harold. We'll have McSha back in D.C. before you know we were even gone. Take your wife out to dinner. Relax, enjoy the rest of your night. I'll contact you when we have our guest aboard the plane. Kiss Charlene for me." He hung up the phone. "Honey bear?" He called after a rapidly retreating woman.
Liz waved over her shoulder, her hips swaying saucily as she and Samar traveled down the path to the shower area over the slight rise of a hill to the RV's rear.
"Francis, keep them in sight at all times." The man advised the younger as he passed. "Joe?" He sought the guy out. "Keep them safe...I have to advise Silas of our plans. I'll be there in a few."
LIZZINGTON
The storage building was dark and gloomy, which matched Silas' mood to perfection, had anyone asked. No one did so far, so the guy was somewhat content to go about the business at hand.
After speaking with Samar, he felt good, but that changed when he opened the vault of memories half an hour ago.
Reading the labels on the neatly stacked boxes brought back memories, some good and some bad.
"Is this all Anya's stuff?" Anthony Burke had offered to help sort and file. The man postponed his trip to Italy after learning of McSha's antics; staying well clear of large gatherings and anything remotely able to explode for the duration.
"Mostly it's her things, yeah." Silas said, grateful to have an extra pair of hands at his disposal Maybe this wouldn't take as long as expected. "After she..." He trailed away for a long beat. "Afterwards, I just piled things into boxes and cut my losses. I had to get the hell away as quickly as humanly possible."
"I understand." Anthony glanced around. "Where to start, right? Any idea?"
Silas motioned to the boxes up front. "I plan to give most of this stuff to charity. It's what Anya would want, I think. People are hard up right now. They can use anything useable." He shrugged massive shoulders, glancing around himself. "Anything marked kitchenware can be given." He pointed to the section David and Justin had already begun. "Any furniture... shit like that, alright?"
The men had piled up mattresses and chests of drawers, which were all neatly wrapped in plastic or covered with packing blankets. He watched the process with a detached air.
"There's a small container; looks like a pirate's chest." Silas absently looked around. "Green with silver inlay. I want to keep that, I guess."
"This box says clothes." David hefted it onto a pile of other boxes already went through.
"I don't want any clothes." The guard waved a dismissive hand. "Oh wait, there was this green dress that..." He trailed away. "No...never mind. Give it away. Everything marked clothes."
"Silas," Anthony was picking up on something, "are you sure you aren't rushing this thing a bit?" He lay a hand on the guy's shoulder. "There can't be any need to hurry through such a–"
"No." Silas shook off his mood. "There is a need. I-I should just clear this shit out. It's been sitting here for all these years. No one's touched it. It needs to go."
"It's not hurting anyone sitting here, is it?" Anthony murmured.
"Maybe it is." Silas' doubts were back. He ran his hand about his neckline. "Maybe..."
"What about this, Silas?" Justin scowled hard, holding up a lamp, interrupting Silas' quiet meanderings.
Glancing over the object with a critical eye, Silas recalled the day Anya purchased the piece with a slow, grimacing smile.
"Anya hated that fucking thing." His eyes softened, as did his tone. "Said it was the ugliest lamp she'd ever seen, which said a lot in my humble opinion. I had to agree with her." He laughed gently.
"So...toss it?" Justin was confused.
Why Anya had purchased the garish multi-hued glass globe lamp that looked like a hippie strung out on LSD had fashioned it, was still in question to this day.
Sure, they had been in the midst of rewiring the house and needed the light, and it had held four bulbs... but damn, the thing was hideous.
Red, bless his soul, being the ever consummate gentleman, tried his best to smooth her concern, saying it was one hell of a conversation piece.
"Red convinced her it was something special she should probably hold on to." Silas grinned at the less than truthful statement. "He wanted her to feel like it was because down deep, we both think she treasured the shitty thing for some obscure reason we couldn't fathom."
The men had stopped rummaging, allowing the guy to walk down memory lane.
"I gave her the business, of course." Silas took the lamp, turning it about in his huge hands, inspecting the glass with a critical eye. "David, you remember her temper." He was certain, laughing at the reaction she had offered.
"She hurled some well-chosen Russian metaphors my way... along with a very heavy glass ashtray, which barely missed Red's head." Silas chuckled accordingly. "He and Dembe had discretely stepped back, out of the line of fire, just as the object was launched by my very angry wife."
"Pissing her off in your own inimitable fashion, hey? As was your way." David smiled, too. "She had a fiery temper. But only when provoked." He cocked a brow Silas' way. "One of your favorite pastimes, as I recall. And they weren't metaphors... they were genuine Russian curses. Ones which made my blood run cold, as I recall."
"I could always calm her down." A warm aura engulfed Silas as the sound of Anya's laughter and quick-fire bitching echoed in his memory.
Glancing once more at the object, Silas hooked a thumb to a growing mound off to their left. "Place it in the giveaway pile."
Nodding his assent, Justin did as told before moving on to another box. Anthony's brow furrowed critically, but he kept his piece.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Silas answered, putting it on camera. Propping it on a nearby book, he rifled through another box. "Yeah..."
"We're outside McSha's cabin." Red's voice carried in the still of the moment. All three men stopped their activities, glancing at the phone.
"Any issues?" Silas muttered.
"None." Red replied. "At this time, anyway." Frowning, he leaned towards the screen as he caught a quick glimpse of Justin, David and Anthony amongst a pile of boxes. "What are you doing?"
"Clearing out a storage building." Silas drawled his exasperation. "What does it look like?"
"What about this one?" David held up a piece of framed art.
Glancing away from his busy work, Silas looked at the art silently for a few moments, his expression carefully neutral. Red wondered if perhaps the call had frozen.
It wasn't until Silas hooked his thumb to the left, was Red for certain they maintained a connection.
"Give away..." Silas muttered, then returned his attention to the box before him.
Red's eyes trailed after the artwork, recalling very vividly the oil painting Silas had gifted Anya of the lush Russian countryside. She had proudly hung it above the mantel for all to see. She had treasured that picture.
"Hey, Silas." Anthony stepped forward, holding a quilt aloft. "You want this in the keep pile?" The man said of the intricate needlework. "It's quite beautiful stitching, I must say."
"Give away..." Silas practically snapped the reply. His eyes fell upon the hanging group of wind chimes over by the stacked boxes of paraphernalia. The crystals chimed merrily as a soft brush of wind came through the enclosure.
Looking quizzically down at the blanket in hand, Anthony frowned, but did as Silas bid.
"Stop that shit this instant!" Red bitched, his temper flaring. "What the hell, Silas! You know Anya loved that blanket and painting. What's in your head, man? Why are you being such an ass?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Silas grumbled. "The whole point of this excursion is to get rid of things, not keep them packed up in stupid–"
"If Anya were here, she'd kick your ass from one side of that building to the other." Red snapped. "And I would help her! You're in no shape to do this right now. Your thinking is off. Anthony, take the fucking phone!"
Hesitating in the background, Justin glanced towards the painting in question, a frown marring his features. Taking the needed step, he pulled the item out of the pile and set it beside the smaller mound of items Silas intended to keep.
"Why would you even think of getting rid of those things?" Red demanded to know.
"I can't keep everything!" Silas grated. "I have limited space and the shipping costs–"
Red looked over the scene Anthony was sending of the pile to give away, for the other man had picked up Silas' discarded phone. Red's aggravation grew with each passing second.
"Grab that purple vase. It was Anya's grandmother's." Red pointed to the object. "That silver box with the engravings was a wedding gift." He shook his head woefully. "Jesus... take that picture album out this instant!"
The objects were all pulled from the pile and set aside.
"Fuck you, Red." Silas turned the camera towards himself. "I'm trying to let go here. You know that! Do you think this is easy for me?"
Red quieted. "...No, of course I don't." He altered his tone and manner.
No one understood Silas' pain better than Red did. Only weeks back, he was confronted with the daunting task of facing his past. Like Silas, he had not handled the situation well... at all.
Had it not been for Elizabeth taking charge of the matter and shouldering the weight, Red knew he would have made a catastrophic mistake, just as Silas was doing now.
"I know it's not." Red softened his tone. "You have to realize, that letting go of the past in hopes of looking to the future, doesn't mean you erase all existence of one woman who you have loved for your entire life simply to pacify another. Especially when that woman would never expect you to do so."
"That's not what I'm doing." Silas didn't think it was, at least. "I'm just trying to move forward without all this extra baggage." He motioned curtly.
"It's not baggage." Red shook a weary head. "It's memories and cherished moments of a time in your life that was special and unique. It shouldn't hurt this much to let go if it's time...should it?"
Silas closed his eyes. "I can't live like I have been. Don't you fucking get it?"
"Then don't." Red agreed readily. "You equate leaving one woman behind while going on with another. It's not what you're doing. You're just making room in your heart for love again. You're opening up a place for someone new. But that doesn't mean you're replacing Anya or leaving her behind. She will always be a part of you." He knew well, as Lizzy taught him that. "That's okay. It really is."
Each man felt shitty being privy to such a private moment, each hanging their heads, waiting out the interval as best they were able. Each felt awkward and hesitant, not really knowing what to do.
"Let me take care of this for you." Red offered willingly. "Let me handle this shit. Take the weight off for a while."
"I don't need your help," Silas replied stonily.
"I know you don't, but I want to do this." Red did. "Allow me to have it all shipped home. I'll put it in a safe place and when you are truly ready...you and I will go through the boxes. We'll decide later what is to be kept and what can be let go."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Silas stewed quietly.
"I doubt very much Samar," Red growled his exasperation, stating a fact, "would mind you keeping memorabilia of your wife."
"What the hell do you know." Silas wanted to know. "I would mind if she kept shit from a man who meant the world to her."
"No, you wouldn't." Red scoffed. "You might be slightly jealous, but deep down, you know it's just keeping part of someone who's no longer there. It's precious because of that very reason."
Red knew he kept Jennifer's baby bracelet from the day they brought home her from the hospital. Should God grant him another little baby to bring home from the hospital one day... he knew he would cherish that bracelet just as much as he did Jennifer's.
"And I know more than you, apparently." Red wagered a guess, and a pretty good one. "I feel Samar would better understand than most why one would cherish artifacts of a lost loved one. She doesn't have any to cherish...does she."
Silas sought out the man's image on the screen, his expression bleak.
"Come on, man." Red gentled. "Anthony will ship this stuff home. We'll see to it another time. You've got enough on your plate with Vadik. He's the real issue here and you know it. Find a way to tell Anya you have to let that go. He's what is holding you there, not the things in those boxes."
Silas glanced around him, remaining silent. He ran a hand over his brow, which was furrowed darkly. "...Maybe you're right." He felt the pressure behind his temples increase. "This can wait." He gestured, glancing at Anthony Burke. "I'll have a shipping company–"
"I own a shipping company." Burke grinned. "Red might as well pay me as the next guy. I'll handle your things, Silas...with your permission, of course. And I will do it right. I loved Anya more than you did," He quipped. "Remember? She could have chosen me were she in her right mind."
Silas smiled listlessly. "That woman was never in her right mind." His words were soft and full of love. "...And she chose the right man. So, fuck off."
Anthony chuckled. "Which were her exact words on your wedding day, as I recall."
Silas turned disbelieving eyes to his antagonist.
"Oh, surely you didn't think I wouldn't give it one last shot." Anthony chided such a concept. "I chalked it up to all that Russian vodka of which she had partaken. Colored her judgement somewhat."
"If I wasn't so tired or have two bullet holes in me...I'd kick your ass." Silas promised.
"But you do..." Anthony reminded, shooing the men out of the way. "Be about your business. I'll call my people and have this cleared out in two hours and on its way to D.C."
Silas glanced about one last time. He offered over his hand, which was instantly taken by Burke. "Tell Anya I still love her."
"Get fucked." Silas replied readily, letting go of the hand as if it were melting lava.
Anthony grinned. "See you men soon. Let me know when the coast is clear, and that maniac McSha is out of action. I'd like to get back to the States sometime in the next week or two."
"We'll contain him." Red knew he could. "But as to the threat he poses? That is another kettle of fish, I'm afraid. I'll keep you apprised of the situation. And thank you, Tony, for your help."
Slowing his steps, Silas traced a finger along the hideous lamp on his way out the storage space.
Retreating to the waiting vehicle, he refused to look back, unsure how it would make him feel exactly… but deep down, he knew the results would be gut-wrenching.
LIZZINGTON
"Are you really okay sharing your space with Francis?" Liz asked seriously as she put their bottles in her shower stall.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"I just wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable."
"No, I'm fine." Samar frowned her confusion. "Did I not say that before?"
"Well, that was dinner and shameless flirting," Liz clarified. "This is sharing a bed."
"Oh, no, I like him." Samar smiled as she undressed. "He's funny. Absolutely charming, as you probably already know. And oddly, very polite. A rarity these days among men."
Unsnapping her bra, Liz draped it over an available hook, then stepped inside the tile stall, turning on the heavy jet, sighing. She stood under the pounding spray for a long moment, smiling happily. "Yeah, that feels good."
"It is nice, isn't it?" Samar agreed, lathering her long hair absently. "Why is it always the simple things in life?" Sighing, she poured more shampoo into her palm, working it into the ends. "Damn hair..."
"Your hair is so long," Liz noted. "I'm letting mine grow," she smiled, knowing Red liked it that way, "but yours is already lovely, Samar." She said over the loud water pouring down on her.
"It's not right for work. I've been thinking about a shorter cut?" Samar sent a questioning glance over.
"Oh, don't do that! Silas..." Liz trailed off. "I mean..." she apologized in a roundabout way. "It's just, I know he loves your hair." She cleared her throat. "Red likes mine long, too." She added hastily to cover her faux pas, but grimaced when the attempt fell flat.
Samar turned quietly introspective. Both women soaped up, relaxing under the heavy spray, letting it work out tense muscles.
"I have a big mouth." Liz quipped. "Did you enjoy the S'mores?"
Samar smiled her bemusement. "They were delicious. I missed so much as a child, Liz. I hadn't realized until recently. And why I'm even thinking about it?" The woman laughed at the absurdity. "It's past. It can't be..."
The distinct sound of footsteps on the porcelain tile just outside the entrance alerted both ladies to someone's approach.
"...Who's out there?" Liz demanded, for she knew Joe and Francis were nearby, but why hadn't they stopped any would be intruders? Then it came to her. "Francis Holbrook...is that you?"
"...No." Francis' voice came back loud and distinguishable.
"I'm going to kick your ass when I get out of here!" Liz promised. "You get away from that entrance, right now!"
Samar had peeked out of her curtained off stall, and was watching everything with avid interest, a bewildered look on the pretty face.
"Well, how is a guy supposed to get aroused if you keep acting all demure and incensed?" Francis snapped right back. "A man does not live by bread alone, you know."
"You're going to be dead, so don't worry about living." Liz grated. "What's in your head! I'm going to tell Red about this little incident. You'll be very sorry, you little perv!"
"You big Narc." Francis was sulking now. "Cut a guy some slack. I'm desperate here."
Samar's lovely mouth pulled into a slow grin as the implications dawned. She cut amused eyes Liz's way.
"I told you, man." Joe's voice wasn't exactly sympathetic. "Wrong move." It was philosophized.
"Are you in on this, Joseph?" Liz's hands went to those shapely hips.
"No, Ma'am." Came the ready reply. "Not me!"
"What are you up to, you damned pervert?" Red had sauntered on site, having surmised the situation in one glance of Francis' moody expression. Hanging Lizzy's robe on a provided hook, he turned expectantly, waiting for a reply.
Dembe followed up, eating his Twinkie, his interest caught despite himself.
"Samar doesn't mind." Francis defended his move. "She expects me to show a little initiative, don't you, sugar lamb?"
"My wife is in there too, dumbass." Red reminded waspishly.
"Like anyone would be interested in her." Francis dismissed such a silly accusation.
"Excuse me?!" Liz gasped indignantly.
"Well, I mean besides him." Francis was getting frustrated, indicating Red. "I wasn't going to look at her! I've seen her! And now you've gone and ruined the entire surprise I had planned for my little lovebug."
Samar stifled her giggle.
"What?!" Liz squealed her dismay.
"What do you mean..." Red startled as his mind connected the dots, "you've seen her!"
Francis stilled hastily, his mind ticking away. "Well...never you mind about that. This isn't about that. This is about the fact you've gone and ruined the entire surprise I had planned for–"
Red lunged for the kid, just missing Francis by a hair's breadth, for he was very agile, more so than even Red imagined he could be.
"Hey! Don't go spoiling the merchandise!" Francis put a goodly distance between himself and the immediate threat.
Dembe hastily stepped out of the path of destruction, holding his last bite of Twinkie on high.
Joe cringed, dodging the fracas as well, stepping clear of Red's attempts to maim and cause extensive damage.
"Can you guess what I have planned for you?" Red seethed, advancing on his adversary with a steady, slow intensity.
"You better just calm down." Francis advised. "You said not to arouse suspicion with McSha so close and whatnot." An accusing finger was pointed at Red. "What's he gonna think if he hears–"
"He already has."
All commotions stopped. Each person held their collective breaths for the totally unexpected intrusion of another presence.
Red slowly turned his head to the sound of the voice he already recognized...his face very, very carefully composed.
"You're all makin' enough racket to wake the dead." Sean McSha shook a woeful head, the charming Irish accent giving a decided lilt to the accusation.
"Holy Mother of God!" Francis squawked his own subtle reaction. He suddenly jerked in place and spun wildly about as Joe unexpectedly lay a calming hand on his shoulder. "Jesus H. Christ! Don't do that, man! Not now!"
Sean scowled slightly, giving over a concerned glance. "Are ya alright, lad? Have ya gone completely off your rocker?"
Francis' mouth moved to reply, but nothing came out.
Peeking around her shower curtain, Liz's eyes widened, her hand coming to her mouth. She sought her companion...hastily wiping away the frothy soap running down her forehead and cheeks.
Samar's brows rose, but she stood perfectly still. She clutched the shower curtain closer to her nakedness to ward off the chill from the constant pelting of the shower head.
Red exchanged careful glances with Dembe Zuma.
Dembe exchanged careful glances with Joe. "...It is most unfortunate you were not guarding the door."
Joe instinctively looked for an out to such a disturbing realization, finding none at present. "Oh, fuck." He whispered his annoyance. "Man, I'll never hear the end of this from Silas."
Sean moved forward, directing his attention elsewhere after a long beat. "Why don't all you men come away from the shower area and allow the women to enjoy their time." McSha was clearly disappointed in his own kind's behavior. "Me mother would box your ears soundly for such behavior, wouldn't she though. I'm ashamed to be counted among your numbers along about now."
Red closed his mouth, slowly...carefully straightening his frame. "Well, one of those women is my wife, Sean."
"Oh?" The man seemed genuinely taken-aback. "Is that the way of things, then?" He seemed to relax by degrees. "And Francis here is trying to... sneak a peek? As is his way?"
"It is not." Francis denied vehemently. But at all the other men's caustic glares... he conceded. "Well, not of his wife. What do you take me for?"
"I'm confused." Sean admitted. "I didn't know you had taken a bride, Reddington. Congratulations and salutations, man."
Red inclined his head graciously.
"I've been out of the loop, I suppose you could say." McSha shrugged apologetically. "I take it this is a recent event?"
"We just got married this past Thursday." Liz joined the fray, wincing as she did so.
"Why then are you not on your honeymoon!" Sean wanted to know.
"Take a wild damned guess, Sean." Red shot the man a perturbed look.
Wagering a guess, Sean grimaced accordingly. "Tis most unfortunate, that." He was truly sorry. "Had I known, I would have sent a gift but..." he shrugged well-defined shoulders, spreading an apologetic hand.
"Most of your packages are returned unopened for some obscure reason?" Red asked pleasantly.
"They are, yes...they are. Each and every time." McSha held his grin. "Can ya imagine such rudeness!"
Red examined each and every inch of the man's person, looking for something he hoped he wouldn't see. "So, Sean... what brings you to this lovely spot? You're the last person any of us expected to see." That much was true, at least.
"Not according to Francis here." McSha cut mischievous eyes the young man's way. "And isn't it an odd coincidence. All of us being in the same place at the same time, now. I've thought on it for a while, all sequestered in me cabin just over yon glen." He motioned. "Did you know? Were ya aware? The entire camp area is abuzz with all sorts of military types running about hither and thither? Why would that be, I asked myself as well."
He took on an innocent air. "Then I saw you, recognized ya right off, I did, and it came to me like a flash. They were here for Red Reddington, of course. I thought to wander over and give ya a head's up as it were, good neighborly like and such."
"Um hum." Red didn't believe a word of that blarney. "Or..." he could bullshit with the best of them, after all, "could it possibly be they are here...for you."
"Me?" Sean seemed a little hurt by the accusation. "Compared to you, I am small potatoes, my friend."
Dembe walked over to the smaller man, his expression a stoically set one. Joe eased to the other side.
Sean glanced at his newfound situation, smiling pleasantly up at the two men.
"I'm in the mood for potatoes." Red informed the guy.
"I see." Sean sighed lightly. "Well..." he scratched his head in a befuddled way, "that's what one gets for trying to be chivalrous these days, I suppose. I come to the aid of two damsels in distress and get myself poached for my troubles. That's the way of the world alright."
"Just want to have a little talk, Sean." Red assured. "Can you guess the why of it?"
"I can." The man nodded amiably. "Of course, now I cannot go ratting out those that I'm obliged not to rat out, you understand?" He held up a warning finger.
"I know you are the consummate professional, yes." Red inclined his head. "I wouldn't expect any less."
"Then we understand each other, and I'll go peacefully to my fate." Sean shrugged again. "I just wish I had planned a site better than I so obviously have not."
That statement troubled Red to no end. "Sean, you're not going to hurt any of these people...are you?" He knew this guy planned meticulously, after all.
"I don't hurt those that do not hurt me. Well, unless I'm paid a goodly sum which...I haven't been."
"I'll take your word as gospel." Red warned superficially. "Alright?"
"You have it...for the time being."
Dembe and Joe eased off just a tad at Red's minute nod to do so.
"Do ya have any of those S'mores left over?" Sean tugged on his ear, his green eyes hopefully expectant. "Oh, and perhaps those lovely ladies could finish their business in private now?" He cast a stern look Francis' way. "I imagine the water is getting a bit frosty."
Each man was checking with the other, uncertain of this new development and its meaning.
"Why don't we all have a nice, long rinse down, now that we're all friends and such." McSha asked pleasantly.
Red's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, we could do that. While you quietly slip back into your heavily wired cabin."
"You don't trust me, Reddington?" The younger man seemed disheartened. "I'm broken." He brightened instantly. "I give my word. Would that suffice?"
Blinking his awe, Red hastily sobered. Never in a million years had he expected that to come from an Irishman's mouth. "...Yeah." He realized the implications, especially with this man. "Yeah, I would accept that, actually."
"There ya have it then." The matter was settled for all concerned, apparently except for...
"You're trusting that little explosive expert shit to keep his word?" Francis was dumbfounded.
"He gave it." Red disrobed absently, hanging his shirt on a convenient hook outside Lizzy's shower stall.
"The same man who would blow off your dick if he could find a way to wire you up?" Francis wasn't about to let his guard down, especially where his dick was concerned. He had become very attached to it, after all.
"Actually, I have found a way." McSha perked up. "It's a little tricky to get the guy to..."
"I don't want to hear about that shit!" Francis squawked. "Don't tell me about that shit!"
"Well, you started it." Sean seemed a little perturbed. "And why would I be looking at his dick in the first place? It's not a manly thing to do in Ireland, let me give fair warning."
"It was a metaphor." Francis spread helpless hands. "I think?" He was thrown a little. "Or maybe a simile... could be an allegory? Just stay the hell away from my dick is all I'm saying!"
"No worries, lad." McSha laughed gaily. "I swing the other way."
"Well, swing way down to the other end of the stalls." Francis pointed. "Anyway...this one's taken. I'll patiently wait for Samar to finish because I want to experience her aura, if you get my drift." He knew guys would.
Red rolled exhausted eyes, stepping out of his pants. He smiled at Samar's throaty chuckle produced by Francis' statement.
"Don't you encourage that little twirp, Samar." Liz had pulled back behind the safety of her shower curtain when all the men had crowded in. "You're a perverted twirp, Francis." She called out peevishly.
Francis grimaced the insult aside. "If any bears come in, I'll protect your lovely person, Samar. Don't you worry...just enjoy your time in there."
Samar soaped her arms leisurely. "I am enjoying it, Francis." Some of the tension she had been feeling for weeks now was slowly dissipating while in the midst of these people, she realized. Silas' phone call had meant more than she cared to admit as well. It was lovely to hear his voice. "I wasn't aware there were any bears about this area, actually."
"Bears, coyotes, kangaroos, locusts...blowfish." Francis ticked off on his fingers. "If it's gonna eat ya, Canada has them. But I got your back, lovely lady. Rest easy."
"Blowfish?" Sean held his smile, hanging his towel on a nearby hook. "Dangerous breed, are they, Francis?" Placing his toiletry bag on a provided shelf, he pulled his shirt off overhead.
"You ever been blown by one?" Francis countered just as sarcastically.
"Once, in Dublin...I think one might have latched on to my privates, but I was ten sheets to the wind and who remembers clearly such things, right?" Sean wasn't about to be outdone; Red noted.
Discretely pulling the shower curtain aside, Red stepped up behind his wife, who was rinsing her face of excess lather. He lay his gun on a ledge out of harm's way.
"Oh!" Liz squealed her shock, having felt another sort of weapon poke her backside. "Is...is that your gun?" She couldn't get the soap out of her eyes just yet.
"Okay." Red's mellow response had the men outside the stall snickering. "I'm here to guard you, Ma'am. Don't be alarmed."
"Yeah, well..." Liz murmured, "I don't remember my guards touching me there before."
"They better not." Red groused before pushing the woman against the wall, kissing her passionately.
Sean chuckled as well. "Ah...impetuous newlyweds!" He shook a woeful head at the shenanigans Americans could come up with.
"Sean?" Red called over the heavy spray of the shower head. Lizzy had moved aside, coming into his arms as they cuddled close under the water. He pecked her nose lovingly. "You're welcome to stay in the RV if you wish. Keep those pesky Canadians off your ass, give you some privacy. But only if you want, of course."
Liz's mouth fell open. Her eyes were wide with shock for the statement.
"Which is a polite way of saying...Sean, you're gonna stay in the RV, correct?"
Red licked his lips to ease a smile. "Only if you think it best."
Danny motioned for Joe and Harper to shower, leaving him and Dembe to cover them all.
"I've wanted to take a nice shower for days." Sean confessed. "It will be pleasant to not worry about people breakin' me door down, I suppose. And those steaks smelled heavenly, I must admit."
Red smiled down at a stunned Elizabeth. "It's always nice to have guests."
"Ya are aware..." Sean pointed out the obvious, "the men's shower area is to the left out there."
"Well, we're here." Red philosophized, kissing Lizzy with open affection.
Canting his head, Sean stepped inside the stall, as did Joe and Harper, turning the jets on full blast.
"Red, I'm worried." Liz whispered her concern. "My spidey sense didn't go off." She crooked her head to the outside world. "Why didn't I know he was out there, roaming around?"
"Same reason I didn't." Red shrugged, soaping her breasts methodically. "He's just that good." He shrugged. "I was also intent on killing Francis so... I was a bit distracted."
"Shouldn't we be doing something more than we are?" She was alarmed, understandably.
"Nothing to be done. If he wants to escape, he probably will. He let himself get caught. Now ours is to reason why."
"I've already done that part." She watched his hands move silkily over her breasts and... downward. "I'm all clean...promise."
"Can't be too careful here in Canada," He teased, his fingers curving to the crease of her vaginal area, lovingly cleansing the heated flesh found there.
"I even heard in a song mention it was advisable to check your lover for ticks." He laughed inwardly, remembering hearing the song at the airport in Tennessee. "For your own safety, mind you."
Closing her eyes, Liz sighed blissfully as the man's large hand curved about her sex, caressing the area methodically.
"Well...when you put it like that," she murmured her contentment. "Be thorough about it, if you will. It is better to be safe than sorry, after all."
LIZZINGTON
Song referenced: "Ticks" by Brad Paisley