Blacklist Lady in Red

Liz opened the doors of her too small closet intent on finding a passable dress to wear for the evening; she couldn't very well walk into an embassy in one of her FBI regulation suits.

Her choices were sparse. Since getting married she didn't have much of a reason to dress up. But her new "glamorous" position with the task force, particularly as Red's choice point of contact, had allowed her the slight chance to branch out a bit on her wardrobe. She had a couple "little black dresses' that could be worn for practically any event. As well as a couple special occasion dresses for weddings and the like. But her most recent purchase was her favorite and by far her most daring. It was this dress that immediately drew her focus when she considered what exactly she should wear to a heist at an embassy. For what's a femme fatale without a gorgeous flash of red?

When she first saw the dress, she initially thought she'd simply been attracted to such a vibrant color. But that niggling little voice in the back of her subconscious kept insisting that she was a lot more partial to the color red as of late. She had to admit, she did look dang good in it; the color, a riotous splash against her skin and the cut, a little modest but curve hugging at every inch.

Slipping into the dress for her evening out, she reiterated those thoughts: yes, she did indeed look good.

As she finished her hair and make-up, she wondered if Reddington would have a comment about her choice of outfit for the event. For someone who seemingly never missed a detail, she highly doubted it would escape his notice.

Her husband certainly approved of the dress, but really, he'd never said a word against any outfit of hers; and she's worn some pretty heinous ones. That little voice in her head was getting louder; it wasn't Tom's approval she was looking for.

Just before leaving, she made the last minute decision to paint her lips just as red as her dress. It made her feel that much sexier and all the more confident. And confidence was paramount in what she was about to attempt to pull off.

Liz took a deep breath as Dembe allowed her into Red's latest temporary residence. He didn't say much, only smiled and informed her that Mr. Reddington would join her shortly.

She couldn't quite make herself sit to wait on him, entirely too keyed up with nerves. However, he insisted on attempting a conversation with her anyway despite the fact that neither were in the same room. He was concerned about Madeline's attendance with what appeared to be an asset for the Russian Bratva. That didn't particularly bode well for their plans.

She was able to push her anxiety off a bit, focusing instead on this potential obstacle. She turned to the mirror, hoping to see a bit more bravery in her own eyes than the last time she'd checked, when she heard Red approaching.

"Wow," he couldn't stop the exclamation; even from the back she was stunning. "And I like your clutch." It was understated enough not to look out of place, but large enough to carry her essentials for her job.

Liz's confusion took over before she could register the compliment.

"What are you wearing?"

"A tuxedo. I'm your plus one," he replied as if it should have been completely obvious.

"You can't get into that embassy."

"Oh yes I can. Some of my best friends are Syrian." He was entirely too confident and her already fraying nerves couldn't handle it.

"You act like this is a joke," her eyes were on the verge of tearing up, oceanic in their depths of blue and how brightly they shined. "There is a digital net over the embassy. Aram can't access the security feeds. I'm going on to foreign soil to steal a priceless artifact with no backup." Her fear was written all over her face.

"You have me. And I'm not gonna let _anything_ happen to _you_."

Liz felt strangely reassured that he would be there and finally managed a smile. Nothing bad would happen, he had always promised her as much. He would protect her if she needed it.

As they glided their way down the staircase, her hand tucked carefully into the crook of Red's arm, Liz reminded herself that she belonged here and that she could handle anything. Red insisted on a quick dance to pass the time and in so doing, he managed to squash her fears yet again. Tonight, she was a criminal, not a cop. And she had been a criminal long before she'd been a cop. Not that anyone else knew that. Except Red maybe.

She navigated her way to the safe without incident, wondering only briefly at the ease of it. Just as she entered the code into the safe, fully prepared for a little victory dance, the alarms started blaring. What could she have possibly done wrong?

They took her into custody, handcuffed to a chair and an armed guard standing not two feet away. She could attempt to slip the cuffs but it was too quiet in the room and the guard would notice. She just hoped to God that Red was on his way. She heard gunshots ringing somewhere in the embassy right after the alarms went off, but practically nothing after.

Suddenly, in walked her saving grace, with every ounce of his attitude and charisma on display. The guard didn't know what hit him, until of course Red's fist collided with his jaw and he knew nothing else. Once Red removed her handcuffs, she couldn't quite stop herself from hugging him. She would later justify the action by thinking she would've hugged anyone that got her out. But in that moment, it was her gratitude for Red alone that had her wrapping her arms around him and clinging to him tightly. His arms wound around her and he sighed, grateful that she was unharmed.

"Thank you," she whispered before letting him go.

He smiled at her, a true Raymond smile. "I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

He took her hand and led her out of the embassy. Miraculously, they didn't encounter a soul. Dembe had the car waiting for them as they exited into a back alley; her coat and clutch were already in the car. She shook her head, grateful and in awe of the talents of one Raymond Reddington.

Liz couldn't help the drawn out sigh that escaped her lips; they failed…she failed. She wondered again why it was that Red thought she was so special.

"It wasn't your fault Lizzie," his low, grumbling voice reached her across the quiet car. He could either read her extremely well or he was psychic. She wasn't entirely sure which she preferred.

She looked at him, eyes firmly disagreeing and shiny, before turning back to the dark scenery passing by outside the window. He took her hand in his, drawing her attention back.

"Madeline had this planned from the out. We were just the distraction while she stole the effigy. Had she not interfered, the plan would have gone off without a hitch. You did excellent work Lizzie. You always do."

She couldn't quite find the right words to respond so she settled for smiling brightly at him and squeezing the hand still gently holding hers.

The two of them were quiet for a time, comfortable, just enjoying the ride, when Red finally spoke up.

"You know you really were absolutely stunning tonight. You outshined everyone in that embassy. I'm shocked to death that you were able to escape notice long enough to sneak your way into that security door."

Liz couldn't help the grin spreading across her face. She didn't hear things like that very often.

"Thanks, but I was hardly the most beautiful woman there. I mean Madeline was just gorgeous!"

"Please Lizzie, surely you know. She couldn't hold a candle to you sweetheart. The second Maddie and I were alone together, she asked about you. I do believe I caught a glimpse of the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head before those alarms went off and she dashed out of my sight. And now you're blushing. Careful, you're starting to match your dress. Which brings me to a question I've been wondering about all evening. Why did you choose to wear a red dress tonight?" His tone was bordering on cocky, but his smirk pushed it right over the edge.

She considered going with her cover story, the color had just caught her eye, but after what he did for her that night, what he had always done for her, she felt he deserved at least the truth of it. She looked him in the eye and said with a slow smile:

"It made me think of you."

He smiled back at her and raised her hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.

"I'm honored Lizzie."

"Now I have a question. You said you didn't know about Omaha, and I said I made it up. So how did you know I could…be a thief?"

He sighed and she wondered if this was going to be another one of those questions that she'd never get an answer to.

"I've known you for a lot longer than you've known me. I know that some idiot you met in high school taught you everything you know on pick-pocketing and that grifting came entirely too natural for you. I know that stealing became a way for you to rebel in your teen years after you found out that Sam was your adoptive father. And I know that you abruptly stopped one day and decided to instead put your skills to better use by joining the FBI. I never did find out the reason why, however."

This time it was her turn to take a moment's pause. She scooted her way across the seat and leaned against his side, taking comfort in his warmth and the spicy smell that followed him everywhere (like cinnamon and the finest whiskey). She took a deep breath, fortifying herself on his scent and the anchor she found in their still entwined hands.

"I would like to say that Sam was able to finally talk some sense into me, or that I realized just what an idiot that guy really was. But it turned out to be because he was a spineless coward, and I had a problem with placing blind loyalty in all the wrong people."

Red made a noncommittal noise that sounded suspiciously like agreement but managed to keep his opinions to himself. He stroked his thumb along the side of her hand, a silent urge to continue.

"The cops finally caught up to him and when they interrogated him knowing he didn't act alone, he folded like an accordion and ratted me out. They brought me in for questioning. I didn't believe them at first when they told me he'd struck a deal. I was so naïve and "in love," or so I thought, that I believed we were a team. Eventually they showed me the recorded confession and I told them everything. Because they didn't have any evidence placing me specifically at the crimes, they made me a deal too. I would help them bring in every criminal contact we'd had and work in the precinct and I would never have a criminal record. I told Sam I'd been granted an internship. I don't think he ever bought it though," she finished her story with a soft laugh. "From then on, being a cop and actually catching criminals became more fascinating to me then committing crimes ever had. Though it is nice to feel the rush in a perfectly executed lift," she said holding his wallet up for him to see.

Red didn't even try to hide his shock and pride. "When did you get that?"

"Oh sometime in the middle of the story. A good distraction is key, you know."

"Yes it is," he agreed. "Remind me to take you along on some of my other business deals."

She laughed and handed his wallet back.

"Yeah, I don't think the FBI would be as into that as we are."

"Oh, so you'd be willing to go then?"

"I-I didn't…" Red talked right over her stuttering protests.

"No worries Lizzie, I can talk Harold into anything. They don't have to know if we're up to anything…potentially nefarious."

Liz started to argue why exactly that was an incredibly bad idea when she thought again on her evening. She actually had fun, grifting and stealing again. And working with Red, she had a feeling that he would never turn on her. He didn't exactly strike her as the spineless type. He had always seemed quite self-serving over the years, but the loyalty that he inspired in others spoke volumes as to how much he cared for and took care of those closest to him.

"You know, it might be fun. Let me know if you ever want me to go with you."

Red was floored to say the least; he didn't actually expect her to agree, believing that her morals as an officer of the law would win out over the thrill, but perhaps he underestimated the darker side of his dear Lizzie.

"Alright then," He cleared his throat, attempting to cover his slight awkwardness. "I will be sure to let you know well enough ahead of time, though it might be prudent to keep a go-bag packed just in case." Now that she agreed to it, there was no way he was going to let the opportunity pass him by.

The car rolled to a stop and the pair of them belatedly realized they had pulled up in front of Liz's house.

Red opened the car door and stepped out and aside to help Liz climb out. He debated walking her to the door but thought better of it, seeing as Tom was likely home, so he opted for standing just outside the car door. She turned to speak to him before she walked away.

"I guess it's a date then." She smiled brightly at him.

He smirked back at her. "And who knows, maybe you'll have the chance to wear that red dress again."

"Oh I don't know about that," she said, bringing her hands up to grip the edges of his lapel. She pulled lightly to bring her mouth up close to his ear. "I was thinking more along the lines of something black…with about a third of the material."

It was the third time that night she'd managed to leave the infamous Concierge of Crime utterly speechless. Her smirk as she walked away rivaled, and potentially bested, his own.


End file.

Blacklist, Adventure, Hurt-Comfort