Archive of Our Own

Red knocks on her door exactly one week before Christmas.  

The only festive item Elizabeth has visible in her house is Rod Stewart's Christmas album; she's played it twice already this morning, hoped it would have lifted her spirits, but Christmas is in seven days and she still hasn't pulled out the Christmas stocking she bought for Agnes last month. 

Her hands are in a sink filled with warm water, detergent, last night's dinner plates and this morning's breakfast bowls when her visitor arrives. She looks over her shoulder at the oven clock and estimates another ten minutes or so before Agnes will probably wake, so she quickly washes the last two ceramics before she answers the door. Today, she's been cleaning like Mary Poppins, just not as effortlessly, and her clothes are crinkled and smell like the microwave does when pumpkin soup has been reheated in it. In a hurry, she grabs the towel off the oven door, dries her hands and tucks the wet, soapy strands of hair behind her ears. Since Agnes fell asleep after reading time, she has managed to cram a weeks worth of housework into a couple of hours. 

It's a week before Christmas, Liz reminds herself as she rushes to the door. She needs to go shopping for gifts; she needs to get more excited, because it's Agnes' first Christmas and it's a day they should treasure.

Liz is certain it will be Red on the other side of the door; she doesn't get many visitors, and her two neighbors have already introduced themselves; they both work on Sundays. Liz pulls open the door and greets Red with a suspicious glare. It's not that she's unhappy to see him, she's just unhappy if he's come bearing a case. Dembe is not with him, but she suspects he is waiting in the car. 

Dressed in several layers, Red's hands are folded in front of him, and the skin on his cheeks is pink from the cold. He has a dark grey scarf wrapped snug around his neck and the tasseled ends are hidden beneath his zipped coat. He looks toasty and warm in all his clothes, and she wonders what jackets she has in her wardrobe. Definitely nothing so smart looking, so maybe she should splurge this Christmas and get herself something nice. Shopping can be very therapeutic she muses. 

She tells Red that he better not be standing on her doorstep for any, any work related reasons.

"This is my last day off before Christmas," she warns him. "Please don't tell me you've managed to unearth some unholy-"

"And aren't you just the picture of Christmas, with that loving frown on your forehead," Red cuts her off joyfully.

Liz watches his head fall dramatically to the side so his ear touches the wool on his shoulder. He shakes his head at her offended expression, as if he expected it from her, and it only deepens her frown. He lets out an amused chuckle before continuing.

"No, Lizzie, there is no need to fret. I am not here to purposely destroy your day with information that could potentially save thousands, if not millions, of civilians."

Liz smiles at him, curls her fingers around the door frame to open it wider.

"Point taken," she replies.

Now that she knows she doesn't have to organize someone to look after Agnes and go into work, Liz relaxes. Red has come for a reason though and, while she guesses it's to see Agnes because he has been away gallivanting around only God knows where for the week, she doesn't want to assume, and she doesn't want to imply that the only reason he visits her is to see Agnes.

They have spent a lot of time together this last month, the three of them, and it's something that just happened, at the time it went unnoticed. But Red has also, again somehow without Liz realizing, managed to spend time with just her too. He has brought her coffee at work, waltzing right past Ressler with two paper coffee cups in his hands and no more than a good morning, Donald, this is a social call i'm afraid. You'll have to rustle up some run-of-the-mill, flimsy... Lizzie!  He has called ahead of time to see if Agnes is in bed, so she can join him in opening his I suppose it's my favorite, in the Northern Hemisphere, bottle of red.

He has been making an extra effort to be around recently, and Liz thinks she knows why.

Tom.

She thinks that in Red's own careful way he's encouraging her to talk about the break up. That perhaps she'll feel more comfortable to talk when Tom's daughter is not in the room with them.

The thing is though, she just doesn't want to talk about it, not to anyone. Cooper has already tried and failed, because she can work through it herself, and she'd rather just forget and move on. Sometimes that's easier said than done, because she's been feeling odd these last three or four weeks and it must be because of Tom.  

He called two weeks ago to check on Agnes, but the conversation soon turned stilted and awkward and it felt nothing like it used to. His work was classified, Liz and she quickly shut down any talk about Reddington. Then Tom's look, I've gotta go sounded false, but so did her oh, damn. Another time then.

Separate ways, she thinks. It will be good for both of them.

"May I come inside?"

Liz blinks away her thoughts, steps back, swings an arm out and gestures for him to come in and out of the cold. Her place is a small, two bedroom apartment, so it has plenty of space for her and Agnes. They have only been here for three weeks, but Red removes his hat and sweeps down the hall with a familiarity she's not sure if she even has yet. Red and his goons helped her move in, and by helped, she means they moved everything while she was at work. Then, she played director, and instructed the men on where every piece of furniture should be situated.

Once the house started looking more like a home, Liz let Red ramble on and list off all his terrific ideas from moody paintings, to a sheep's wool rug just there, to a pale blue, but not the sky during the day blue, Lizzie, but the color of the sky first thing in the morning on the first day of Spring, painted on the bathroom walls. Liz has ignored all of his ideas so far, but it's mainly due to her lack of time and money, not the ideas themselves. 

Red heads straight towards the living room and Liz follows behind wondering if she had purchased that coffee she knows he likes, or if she forgot to do so because she hadn't written a shopping list but instead memorized one. Not that it matters whether it was purchased or not, she wasn't going to buy it just because of him, but it was a nice, smooth coffee, and she enjoyed it the few times she'd had it.

"Coffee?" she asks. "Agnes is asleep in her room. You can go on in."

"No," Red stops abruptly in the middle of the living room and removes he hat. Then, quieter, he says, "let her rest."

A slight panic begins to creep up on her when Red looks around the living room; his forehead creases and he taps his hat against his thigh. It looks like he is searching for something and, either his facial expressions are purposely exaggerated, or he is genuinely surprised he can't find whatever he's looking for.

"What?" she asks him uneasily. He pops his head around the door frame and looks back down the hall. "What is it?"

"You don't have a Christmas tree."

Relief runs through her at his simple answer. She was beginning to think her house had been bugged. She was about to dart into Agnes' room, scoop her up and hold her close to her chest. Liz tries to tone down her paranoia when it comes to safety and Agnes, and she has been much better lately, but she still worries. Red tells her she is a mother, and mothers tend to worry about their children, but Liz knows she would wrap Agnes up in cotton wool if she had the chance. After Cuba, and losing Agnes to Kirk, she has been overly sensitive in regards to Agnes' welfare. 

Confused about why the lack of a Christmas tree would bother Red, she shakes her head and asks, again, "what?"

"It should be decorated by now. It would go nicely just there, don't you think?" he points towards the left of the television in the corner she has saved for a reading chair. "Or perhaps next to the book shelf?"

Liz looks at him as if he's grown an extra head, or two, or maybe three and where has he been this past week? The first thing he does when he arrives back is make sure she has a Christmas tree? She rests her hands on her hips.

"Wait. So you came around to see if I had a Christmas tree?"

Red takes two strides towards her with a seriousness that is definitely not suited to something so insignificant as not having a Christmas tree. Liz straightens her shoulders at the thought of his close proximity, and a possible but strange argument, but Red just moves straight on past her.

"Yes," he responds and leaves her standing next to the couch as he exits the room and slips on his hat again. She hears his steps on the wooden floor down the hall. "Grab your coat, Lizzie," he calls. "I will get Agnes ready."

Exasperated, Liz quickly follows him.  "Where are we going?" 

"Out."

"Out where? Red? Reddington."

"What about this one?" 

"No," Dembe crouches down low by the tree and brushes his large hand along the pine needles. "It's too thin around here."

Liz rolls her eyes in Red's direction, but he is too busy nodding along with Dembe's assessment. They are ridiculous, she thinks, the pair of them. Their fussiness is worse than Agnes' phase of disliking every soft toy except her small, brown bear. Liz pushes the stroller past the Christmas tree and begins to laugh at the four of them and the fact that they are shopping for a Christmas tree. She even laughs at Agnes, because Agnes is currently staring up at the FBI's fourth most wanted without a care in the world, and she's been puckering her lips at the man's body guard for the past hour.

Agnes' innocence and her love and interest of everyone, especially these two men, is endearing. Suddenly, Liz feels a little warmer and she is pleased she will have something festive in her apartment for Agnes. And maybe for herself too.

"I didn't realize there was a checklist for buying a Christmas tree," she says aloud, though Dembe is right; there's a large gap near the bottom of the tree and no amount of tinsel would hide it.

"Ah, Lizzie, don't be disheartened," Red gently wraps his hand around her upper arm, rubs his thumb along her sleeve, and weaves them through a couple more spindly looking trees. "You've found a few that are so close to perfect."

"You've both said no to the last hundred trees we've looked at."

"But isn't it fun?" Red stops her to talk, and they watch on until Dembe turns left then right and disappears behind another row of trees. Red smiles down at Agnes. "And she is enjoying her time out," he says.

"It's good to get her outside," Liz agrees and slips off her gloves. She leans over and presses the back of her hand to Agnes' cheek. "Does she feel cold to you?"

Red kneels down in front of the stroller and touches a couple of fingers to the side of Agnes' face. "I think she feels fine. Are you worried?"

Liz crouches down beside him and makes sure Agnes' beanie is covering her ears. "No, I think she's okay."

"I'm sure she is," Red unravels the scarf from his neck and works to fold it in half. He places it over the blanket covering Agnes and tucks it in at the sides. 

"Oh, you didn't have to-" 

"Elizabeth," Dembe calls, interrupts her comment. "How do you like this one?"

Liz takes Red's hand and places it on the handle of the stroller. She leaves him with Agnes and walks towards Dembe.

"It better be a good one," she teases, pulls on her gloves again.

She makes a big show of examining the tree from top to bottom before looking at the two men to gauge their reaction. They give nothing away, and both seem genuinely interested in her thoughts, so she spends another long, drawn-out moment with a hand on her chin to contemplate. Red catches on quickly, quirks his lips when she hums. 

"I think it's the one," she smiles.

"What is so funny?"

"You and Dembe. You were like a couple of kids back there."

Red huffs in response, and they watch from the back of a small crowd as Dembe hands over some cash to the young boy at the entrance. The tree is wrapped in thin plastic, and Dembe tosses it over his shoulder to the surprise of the older woman beside him.

"It must be exciting for you..." Red comments after a moment. "Agnes' first Christmas."

"Yeah," Liz responds, moves the stroller back and forth in time with the Christmas music coming from the large outdoor speakers.

Red looks down at her, catches the way she fiddles with the sun protector on the stroller.

"Is everything alright?"

"... I've been trying to get into the Christmas spirit for Agnes. And I dont know, I feel like I should feel better than this. But with..." she trails off.

"Tom leaving," he finishes for her.

It's the first time he has brought Tom up in conversation since the split, and it's the first time Liz wonders if Tom leaving really is her problem.

If he were here right now would she feel any better? It would be good for Agnes to have both parents there for her first Christmas, but Liz can't seem to pin point her own feelings. She feels a mix of nolstagia, loneliness but a different sort of loneliness, because she has Agnes and Red and even Dembe is more willing to converse with her lately.

"I don't really know if it's about him. It's more that... You know," she says, looking up at him and suddenly feeling clearer. And it's the small crowd of people in front of them that does it; the families, the grandaughter on her grandfather's shoulders to the left of them. 

"I think I might be missing Sam. We actually... We used to buy our tree so early that by the time Christmas came around it started to brown. And then we left it up until late January, and even then we were both so reluctant to remove the decorations."

"I wish he could have met her," she continues. "I know it sounds odd, after everything that's happened, the things I've done, but I think Sam would have been proud. He was like that."

"He was. And Lizzie-" Red lets his sentence slip away as Dembe, with the Christmas tree over his shoulder, walks over to them and passes Red the keys.

"All ready," he says.

Wonderful!" Red replies overly loud. "Do we need one of those funny looking stands they have there?"

"I've already got one," Liz tells them.

As Dembe leads the way to the carpark, Red places a hand on Liz's arm and stops her.

"You and Agnes can leave your Christmas tree up until late January, Lizzie. There's nothing stopping you from continuing your and Sam's tradition."

Once home, Liz leaves the two men to manuvere the Christmas tree into the living room while she changes Agnes. On her way back, with Agnes settled on her hip, she stops by the storage cupboard and grabs the box of decorations she has used every Christmas since she was five years old. Some of them are looking a bit worse for wear, and some have loss the string of cotton to loop around the branches, but they will do for now. Tomorrow after work she can pop into town and buy a few extra ones if need be.

"Ah, decorations," Red stands from the couch and takes the box from her. He lifts the carboard flaps and peers inside. 

"They're really old," Liz reponds and places Agnes down on the rug in front of them. "Where's Dembe?"

"Dembe is off to get us some dinner. If you'd like to join us. Otherwise, we'll take off once he's back." Red pulls out a polystyrene sphere which has been hand painted. It has a red and black picture of Santa on it and a yellow sun. "Is this one of young Elizabeth's creations?"

Liz snatches it from his grasp and spins it in her hand. "Don't laugh. This took me ages."

Red does laugh, softly, and then he reaches into the box again and rustles around.

"I don't know why I drew a sun."

"Perhaps you thought Santa deserved a vacation." Red pulls out a gold star from the box and hands it down to Agnes who grips it happily between her fingers. "So, dinner?"

"Sure," Liz responds. "As long as you help me with decorating this guy," she points at the tree. The room smells of Christmas, of pine needles and old tinsel. She begins to feel a little more festive

"Shall we get started then?" Red asks.

They start by working together to put the lights on the tree. Being taller, Red reaches up, starts at the top, and spirals the lights down while Liz untangles them from the roller and feeds them to him. Red complains that she's going too fast for him, and Liz complains that he's not spreading the lights even enough on the tree.

"I can't see what I'm doing, Lizzie," Red says, squished between the wall and tree. "If you would stop unwinding the lights so fast I wouldn't have to look down at my feet to avoid tripping over them. And I could concentrate on putting them on properly."

"Well, it's not my fault you can't keep up. Look, look, hey. Go back around there's a giant gap."

Liz bites her lip as Red's face is poked with pine needles and he splutters dramatically. She lets more lights roll off and watches his arms desperately try to keep them from getting tangled. 

"Oh my god," he mutters.

"What are you doing?"

"You are being absolutely no help whatsoever," he accuses.

"What ever you do, don't tangle the lights."

"Thank you, Lizzie, for enlightening me with that-"

"- Oh my god, get out from behind the tree," she laughs, crouches on her knees and holds the stand down with her fingers. "You're going to knock it over."

Red huffs and squeezes his way out. He brushes away the few pine needles that have stuck to his shirt and wipes at his face. 

"What a horrendous nightmare."

"Remember we're decorating the tree, not you," she teases.

"And here I thought you and I would make a great team," he replies. "Honestly, Lizzie, I wouldn't want to go fishing with you."

Liz sits Agnes on her lap as Red takes over the tiresome job of looping new pieces of cotton through the holes in the decorations they have yet tp put on. She watches his fingers work quickly and carefully. His legs are stretched out in front of him like a school boy, and his look of concentration makes her smile. The movement of his hands captivates not only her, but Agnes as well. 

"Thank you." 

Red looks up from the small decoration in his hand. "Hm?"

"For dragging me out to get a tree."

Red rolls the fixed decoration along the carpet to her, and she picks it up and hangs it low on the tree.

"It was my pleasure."

Liz smiles at him and bounces Agnes gently on her lap. 

"Did you used to decorate the tree with your daughter?" 

Red stills at the question, a quick pause that many wouldn't catch, but Liz knows him well enough now, and knows the few tells he does have. She's caught him off guard, but it's not the kind of conversation she wants to catch him off guard with. Making it uncomfortable between them is not something she wants, especially since he's literally spent they day cheering her up, buying her and Agnes a Christmas tree.

"I'm sorry that was-" 

"Yes," he answers.

Red lifts another decoration out of the box, breaks off a piece of cotton and loops it through the hole.

"Although, I had never thought of creating our own decorations," he rolls her the decoration; it's colored in red and green stripes, and the memory of Sam painting it is so vivid in her mind.

She remembers being in awe of his steady hand, the straight lines he painted with his thin, blue brush. Liz had tried to do the same, but ended up turning her lines into waves. Sam always insisted it looked much better than his.

"It was Sam's idea." 

Red lets out a quiet laugh. "I'm not surprised. He did have all the good ones."

"I'm sure you had a few good Christmas traditions..." 

How far can she get? She's often thinks that maybe Red wants to talk, she knows he loves to talk, but maybe he wants to talk about things closer to home, more personal. If he could trust someone enough maybe he would, maybe he already has with Dembe.

She decides here and now, that she will pick at him slowly, thread by thread, and maybe she can piece him together, find out a little More, encourage him. Perhaps it could be her new years resolution because her I will go to the gym three times a week and once on weekends resolution didn't get any where last time. 

Get to know Red better, not just the twitch under his eye when he's angry, the drastic change of subject or mention of food when he derails a conversation he's secretive about. She can learn about his family, or the time of his life when he wanted to be a sea captain. This is a resolution she can sink her teeth into. Red might not like it, but she can start slow. 

Red finally looks up at her and smiles. She's been staring at him for too long and it's probably bordering on suspicious; there's something in his expression that has her wondering whether he can sense her plan. 

"We had a few traditions," he replies, and she leaves it at that.

Dembe leaves to wait in the car shortly after their early dinner. Red tells him he won't be long, but Liz extends Red's stay by telling him to go say good night to Agnes.

"Go look at her," she finds him in the kitchen,  drying the few plates from dinner. "She's out like a light. It's kind of adorable."

While he's in the other room, Liz turns off the living room lights and lets the Christmas tree glow by itself. The space is immediately cozy. Collapsing onto the couch, she puts her feet up, turns on her side and admires the tree.

"Wow," Red comments from the hall a short time later. He walks over to sit next to her, and she quickly makes room for him.

"It always looks better when it's dark," she says, crossing her legs. "I can't believe I almost didn't get one."

"I'm glad you decided to."

Liz smiles at him. "You decided for me."

"You could have said no."

"True, but you're sometimes hard to say no to."

"Ah," Red chuckles, pats the arm of the sofa with one hand and scratches his head with the other. Whether or not it's from embarasment she doesn't know, but it's sweet all the same.

They sit in silence for a while. Liz spends the time thinking of Sam. She wishes he was here, wants him to meet Agnes and spend the day inside eating food and drinking hot chocolate. Sam would have loved Agnes. The little giggle Agnes has a habit of letting out when people are talking around her, but not to her, would have melted him.

Liz glances at Red and wonders who he would want to spend Christmas with. His daughter, wife. Did he celebrate last year? Will he this year? Does he have a tree in his house? Maybe she should storm his house tomorrow and demand him to get one. What does he do for Christmas?

And what will she and Agnes do? 

"Are you and Dembe doing anything for Christmas?"

"Dembe is spending the day with his family."

"And you?"

He looks at her and shakes his head. It's done almost instinctively, as if he's been asked before, many times, and his response is always the same.

"We could do something," she offers, looks away from him and stares back at the lit tree in front of them. It sort of came out of nowhere, but not really because they could  do something, especially if Red is planning to spend the day alone. 

"What did you have mind?"

Some part of her thought he would decline immediately, tell her he's off to the other side of the world to have a hot, sunny Christmas. But the other, larger part of her, thinks that Red will love the idea, and it makes her feel bittersweet.

"Dinner or something?" She has no clue really, but they can work out the details later. "We could do it here."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Liz turns back and frowns at him. "What do you mean 'are you sure?'" 

"I don't know what I meant," Red sinks further into the couch and rests his head on the back of it. He tilts it towards her, fixes her with a curious gaze. "I would love to spend the day with you and Agnes."

"You, me and Agnes," she tells him, tries hard to cover up the sympathetic look she knows she's wearing right now, but uncertainty just drips from him, and when did he last share Christmas with someone? "We'll have fun."

"We certainly will."

"You actually want to?"

"You know that I would," Red replies deeply and eases himself up from the couch. "I suppose Dembe will be wondering where I am. I'll see myself out."

Liz nods at him, watches the way his hand fidgets at his side as he walks. Just before he exits the room, she speaks up again.

"You're not going to go away are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"On Christmas day."

Red takes a step back into the room. "If you want me to be here, I'll be here, Lizzie. As long as you're sure."

"Good," she nods. "Good. Okay. Well, don't get me a present or anything. Just... be here."

"Ohh." Red grins. "Too late. I've been waiting weeks to give my present to you."