Chapter Text
Liz had a hangover from hell, the stench of regret still thick on her breath. She pulled on the robe hanging from the bathroom door and clumsily fell to her knees in front of the toilet. The wave of nausea wracked her body as dull moans escaped her chapped lips.
She couldn’t remember the events of last night, only that she awoke alone, naked, and thoroughly empty inside. She regularly forgot to eat during a night of binge drinking. That little habit was smacking her in the face at this very moment. What had happened? What had she become? Somewhere in the process of finding space and finding herself, she lost every piece of her puzzle that truly mattered in the first place. She’s messed everything up and the smell of vomit and spilled booze wouldn’t let her forget it.
One dry heave later and her phone started vibrating rapidly from the other room. She leaned back against the wall, the cool tile against her defeated feet, and ignored the call. She was in no shape to move, let alone talk. She waited a moment and the phone rang again. Still, she ignored it. Finally, with the third insistent call, she clamored to her knees and pushed herself into the bedroom. She reached for the bright screen and pressed it firmly to her ear, too hurried to check and see who was calling.
“Hello? Hello?” She croaked, but she had missed the call again.
She waited a moment for a fourth call, leaving the phone haphazardly on the night stand as she ran, yet again, to the toilet and to her knees. She was interrupted by a knock on the door that was too impatient to wait for her answer. She heard the locks click and the door swing open.
Red was kneeling on the floor in front of the door, lock picks in hand as the door gently swung in. He was glad Lizzy was finally taking his advice and staying in one place for Agnes. But the least she could do was give him a key.
Not that she would ever do that. She was all but done with him and he didn’t blame her. All the things he had done, and worse, the things he hadn’t. He put the tools away and recomposed himself as he stood.
“Lizzy?” He queried to an empty room. A horrible retching echoed out from the bathroom. His eyes fluttered shut. Had he really driven her to this? Was he really so terrible a person that she found solace at the bottom of a bottle or in the arms of another man? He looked to the bed before continuing further. Looks like she slept alone last night at least.
“Lizzy, are you alright?” He slowly walked through the room, grabbing a towel from the closet on his way to her.
Shit.
Why does he just let himself in like that?! The door is locked for a reason, something she doubts he’d ever understand. Setting boundaries was on the top of her "To-Do list" with Reddington, but she never seemed to get around to it after… everything.
She couldn’t even pull her robe tighter before another wave of awful body-trembling heaving ensued. She wanted to tell him to go. To, at the very least, wait outside but it was no use. Her mouth was otherwise occupied. She could feel his eyes scanning every inch of her body and the heat of embarrassment climbed up her spine. Or maybe that was blood rushing to compensate for the sudden loss of liquids. But she knew for sure that her trembling hands had nothing to do with his sudden presence and the echo of her name on his lips.
A petite and trembling hand desperately clung to the edge of the terry robe, trying to keep the wearer modest in her less than modest predicament. Realizing he was staring, Red moved to the sink, where he wet a hand towel with cool water.
Squatting next to Liz, he reached out to her. He paused a moment before touching, the last thing he wanted to do was violate her. He could sense his presence wasn’t welcome, even amidst the sour vomit.
“Lizzy. Please. Let me help you. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to but if I leave, an ambulance will be here before I exit the building.” He wondered how much alcohol she had consumed. Sweat drenched hair clung to her forehead, accentuating her pallor.
She didn’t move. She froze in embarrassment. In silence. This was the last thing she wanted Red to see after their uncomfortable parting. The empty bottles and discarded clothes strewn across her floor. The weeks old stack of empty take-out containers still piled next to the trash can, over flowing onto the counter.
If he wasn’t here, she could have at least pretended she had everything together. Like her decision, no plea, for distance had been the right one. Her eyes snapped shut gathering her courage, her confidence, her independence. She hadn’t realized how desperate she was to hear his voice. To hear that deep baritone whisper her name, his hot breath on her ear. Maybe that’s what she was searching for at the bottom of every empty glass and in the eyes of every discarded lover after all. But she was done being a damsel, not for him, not for anyone.
She pushed herself away from the toilet, propping back up against the wall. Exhausted, frustrated, and horribly sick, any modesty she once had was out the door. She grasped the towel from his hand, brushing his fingers ever so slightly, and dabbed at the corners of her own mouth.
He watched as she slid down the wall inch by inch. By the time she reached the floor, her robe had slid from her shoulder. He was dying inside watching her do this to herself. She had no idea what she was doing, to the both of them.
Why hadn’t he told her about those nights in the opium den? Or when he traveled to Cape May and let the ocean wash against his ankles as it slowly opened its welcoming arms…
He understood she wanted to be the heroine of her own story. But today was not that day.
That was it.
He would have to beg forgiveness later and risk further alienation.
“Elizabeth. I know you don’t want me here. I know how strong willed you are. But this…this is destruction and chaos. I’ve been there, there is nothing waiting for you at the end of this road except more self-loathing and hatred. Let me help, if only for a moment.” One last plea, and then he would leave. He had to try.
There was no sigh to be had. No bitter swipe at the three-day old stubble gracing his jaw line. No smart mouthed comment would get her out of this one. Pushing him away was useless for the both of them. She looked down at her exposed body, the rotten robe, and the disgusting tile floor she’d meant to clean weeks ago.
“I must look like shit,” she couldn’t help but chuckle at her own helplessness. No matter what she needed or wanted from Red in the past, they had an intimacy that went beyond a minor 'bad night' of embarrassment. As he moved forward she slid into his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“Don’t let me ruin your suit.”
Feeling her resting against his shoulder made his heart sing! Oh, how long he had wanted to feel her in his arms again! Red gently slid one arm under her knees and delicately wrapped the other around her shoulders.
“You are worth far more to me than any bespoke suit Lizzy. The suit I can replace. You on the other hand, I cannot.” With a grunt he hoisted her from the floor. Liz gently tucked her face into the crease of his shoulder and Red became aware of a wetness forming there.
He brought her to the bed and carefully laid her on the sheets. He removed the towel from her hand and after refolding it, gently dabbed her face and neck. It looked as though she had barely slept in days and she was certainly dehydrated. Reaching for a nearby trash bin, he pulled it closer to the bed. Her body was no longer shaking, so the brunt of it must be over.
“I’m going to grab you a glass of water and a clean towel.”
Just as suddenly as he came, he disappeared. In the few brief moments he was gone she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. Her chest constricted and tightened in anxiousness for his return. Disappointed in her weakness and terrified by her own lucidity, she turned over and curled into a ball. She dug her face desperately into the pillow and tightly squeezed her eyes shut until bright yellow and orange spots filled her vision.
His footsteps echoed his return and her heartbeat slowed back down into security. The wave of panic subsided as his hand caressed her upper arm softly and down between her exposed shoulder blades. She couldn’t help but press into his hand. She may not be able to form the words to ask him to stay, but this was the best she could do. A silent language she hoped they still shared.
It was a small gesture, but one he understood clearly. He dug his hand in harder, playing with the lumps of her shoulder blades then moving on to massage every knob of her spine. He could hear a soft moan of appreciation. Much as he hated to break the contact once again, he needed her to drink something. With a gentle tugging, Red removed the robe from Liz. There was very little it was still covering and honestly, she would be much more comfortable sleeping off this hangover with just the sheet surrounding her.
Removing his hand from her back, he gently pulled her side in attempt to get her to roll over. A mildly irritated groan echoed from somewhere within Liz as her body finally acknowledged the external influence. Sitting at the head of the bed, Red tenderly picked Liz up, resting her against his chest once more. He cautiously grabbed the glass from the nightstand.
“Can you drink on your own? We’ll be an even bigger mess if I have to attempt to tip this for you. Much as I enjoy splashing around with a beautiful woman, now is not the time.” He held onto the drink as her hands slowly joined his.
She couldn’t help but chuckle. She accompanied the laughter with a sharp elbow that dug decisively into Red’s ribs. It was somewhat ineffective at this angle, but she got her point across the best she could while leaning against the soft fabric of his waistcoat.
“Drinking got me here, what’s one more?” The sarcasm dripped from her tongue and bit into her skin. She reached for the glass. Her hand shook at the new strain, arms lifting, muscles groaning. She fought to settle it, the water vibrating like restless waves until Red’s hand wrapped around her’s.
She couldn’t see his eyes or the look on his face, but she imagined concern laced with anger at her irresponsibility. He helped guide the glass to its destination like a swinger at the local watering hole teaching a floozy to shoot pool, pressed tightly behind with actions reading far beyond their surface.
The water trickled down her throat and reluctantly, her chin as well. She couldn’t remember the last time anything tasted this good. It hurt as it burned down her throat like the liquor bottle never could. It replenished and revitalized the nerve endings until she was too keenly aware of the new situation she found herself in. Naked. In bed. Against Reddington’s chest. Too bad sanity and sleep began to take her or she might have made some decisions she’d regret in the morning.
After a few sips, he removed the glass from her hands, setting it to the side once more. Red leaned back against the headboard, pulling Lizzy with him. With a swift flick of the wrist, he jerked blankets up and around them. They softly fell upon bare breasts and Red felt a slight shudder from Liz at the cool rush of air.
Large, rough hands smoothed wild brunette hair. Eyes closed with a heavy sigh. He would permit himself this one guilty indulgence. To be close to the women he loved, the women he had been trying to forget. It was almost more than he could bear.
There was much to talk about, but for the next few hours they could rest in the comfort of each other’s presence. Perhaps they could find a middle ground. Maybe there was hope for them after all. For the first time in an eternity, he permitted himself to imagine what could be…