Thank you to all of those who reviewed and followed my previous work. I try to focus my marketable endeavors but sometimes just need a little guilty pleasure inspired by Red Reddington. Hope you all enjoy! M rating. Lizzington.

Liz was too exhausted to inquire into the details of Red's immediate plans. Her life was such an unmitigated mess; she could hardly fathom the seismic shift that had upturned her rational and comprehensible world. She didn't want to think about it, at least not yet. She let all of her troubles, everything that had happened in her life and everything she had lost, just slip away as she leaned into Red in the back of their escape vehicle. Though his face was tortured, she felt safe being with him, wherever they were. There was a degree of peace to her soul she couldn't explain and that she knew could never last. This was a transitional world, something surreal, and she let herself be submerged within in, if just for now.

They traveled by car for several hours as Liz dozed, then a high speed boat to an intermediate location before embarking on a noisy flight aboard a four passenger, double prop Cessna, well below Red's normal standards. They were the only passengers, of course, and the pilot was the only crew. The remainder of what little space the small craft allowed was filled with their limited supplies in two small go-bags. It was a tedious journey but a necessary one, as Red had no doubt that the Cabal and the FBI would employ every element of their considerable resources to locate them. Sitting together in the back of the small plan, they ate sandwiches, washed down with bottled water.

It was night when they arrived at a lesser known private island off of Costa Rica, more than 24 hours since leaving D.C. The plane dropped off its passengers and flew away again, leaving them in dimly lit isolation. She felt the softness of grass under her feet as she followed Red, flashlight in hand, to a small structure next to the landing site. Tugging the large doors open, a two-passenger all-terrain vehicle was revealed, something designed for farm work and just shy of street legal. As they rode up to a sparsely illuminated residence, Red recounted a tale of the misfit son of a Saudi sheik and a couple of Indian beauties with whom he became stranded on a similar island some years prior. Liz didn't really follow the story and, in truth, Red's demeanor lacked his customary enthusiasm. There was just too much reality interfering for colorful chatter. The house was not extravagant in size, yet every detail was attended to with a craftsman's skill, from beautiful woodwork to delicate tile designs. It wasn't as extravagant as many of his previous safe houses. This was definitely not the vacation house of a Sheik, Liz decided, but well-appointed nonetheless. She wondered who it belonged to but didn't ask. There was not sound nor sign of anyone else on the island.

Though they had both drifted off now and again during the trip, exhaustion still pulled at their defenses. Shown to her room, Liz barely managed to undress before falling into bed, safely ensconced in soft linins, as Red did the same in the room across the hall.

It was still night when Liz woke, a bright moon casting the room in a blueish glow. Though still drained, her mind was clear and she knew sleep would not return. She pulled on a t-shirt and shorts from the dresser with little thought as to whom they belonged. She felt a renewed awareness of the world, the sounds and sights of the island, windows opened to the sea breeze, as if she had stepped into an alternate universe, one where the boundaries and contours she had long taken for granted had all slipped away. She padded down the short hall and into the main room of the residence where the kitchen merged into a living room surrounded by grand glassed walls. There, gazing silently into a darkened window, she found Red, still dressed in the slacks and dress shirt of his suit.

He glanced at her only for a second as she came to his side before returning his gaze to the darkened island and moonlit sea beyond. Liz wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all. For the first time, she looked at him, at Raymond Reddington, as a man, not as a criminal or a traitor, not as a manipulator or keeper of secrets, but as a man. He had always seemed larger than life, a brilliant, dangerous, charismatic older man with a voice that could delve into your soul. He looked weary now and saddened, but this man standing beside her cared about her and had been there for her whenever she needed him, no matter how she treated him. He was a mystery to her but now somehow she felt like she was inside the mystery with him, privy to his inner self which he had strived vigilantly to shield from public view.

"There's no going back know," she said, sighing deeply, expressing the truth she had hereto avoided. "Even if I clear my name of the rest, I murdered the Attorney General of the United States."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you," he offered, distant.

"I made my own choices," she countered confidently, "to protect the people I care about." She thought about the team, about Ressler and Cooper and the others, but when she pulled that trigger it was the threats against Red that terrified her the most.

Red grumbled rather than voice a response but she knew what he was thinking. He was taking all of this on himself. "You saved me," she told him, "and not for the first time."

They stood in silence for several moments, both gazing somewhere beyond. "I still remember what it was like," Red began in lieu of a reply, his voice low, "when I was on the other side of the law … a lifetime ago. It seemed simple. There were good guys and bad guys and the lines between them were so … crisp." He snorted softly. "And I was willing to believe in all of it."

"They framed you too, didn't they?" she realized, stunned.

"I too have made my own choices," he told her, "and have long since stepped from the realm of guiltlessness. I had hoped to keep you from coming down the same path. In the end I think I just led you there by the hand."

She let out a deep breath, contemplating what to say next. If she couldn't dissuade him of his feelings of culpability, maybe she could try to understand. "My mother was your asset?" Liz asked, though already fairly certain of the answer.

"She was," he said, nodding softly, a flash of tenderness flashing over his features as he went on. "when I met her she had a little daughter she would do anything for," and his voice fell to a deep gravel, "Her husband was one of the darkest souls in the game and, as it turned out, a key player in the cabal. I turned her… convinced her that if she wanted her daughter to be happy and safe, she had to escape the lecherous grip of the KGB but the situation was more complicated than I anticipated. I convinced her that if she fed me the information I needed, I could protect her and her daughter… you. I was terribly arrogant in those days and laughingly naive." He shook his head, eyes blind to the view ahead of him as he stared into the past.

"And the night of the fire?" Liz prompted, wondering how far his uncharacteristic openness would last. This moment seemed like an oasis of clarity in a world mired in obscurity and confusion.

"Your mother contacted me," Red responded. "She had the fulcrum which would lay bare the conspiracy, the existence of which she had been trying to convince me … to substantiate, but she feared your father was aware of her duplicity."

"That was what they were arguing about," Liz realized, looking into the past herself.

"I heard the gunshot as I arrived; entered to a haunting scene," Red went on as if he could still see Lizzie gawking with horror at the ruined body of her father. "Right then the others arrived, KGB, Cabal or maybe both. They knew your mother was a traitor and they were coming for her. She told you to run, to hide in the closet. I took a hit in the shoulder and they took your mother, setting the house ablaze even though she screamed helplessly for your life. I came to … amid the flames, hearing the tiniest voice crying out in terror."

"You found me and got us out," she said, remembering, the bitter taste in her mouth of smoke. "And my mother?" she asked.

He shook his head bitterly. "By the time we found her it was too late. Overwhelmed by grief and shame at her failure to protect you and seeing no other way out, she took her own life. To be sure, it was an easier fate than what the KGB or the Cabal would have put her through."

Liz thought about her mother, what it must have felt like to be in that situation. It felt like losing her, losing someone she never really had. "Were you involved with my mother?" Liz asked, still looking straight ahead.

"Romantically? No." Liz glanced over to see his face contorted with pain. "I still had a life then, a lovely wife and beautiful daughter. Your mother was just an asset, part of my job. I used her," he told her bitterly, "… used her love for you to turn her … in service to my country, all for that meaningless obscurity of the greater good. I didn't pull the trigger but I set the events in motion which took everything from you."

Frowning as those words impacted her mind, as deeper, unsettling feelings began to stir within her. "Is that what I am to you? An obligation? Trying to make up for what was taken from me? Like I did with the harbormaster's daughter?"

"In the beginning," he admitted, and then turned to look at her directly, emotions shimmering in his eyes. "You were right, when I came back into your life two years ago. I was a monster. No matter how extravagant my justifications, I was removed from the simple realities of life. In adapting to the criminal world I lost what it meant to really care about someone, to appreciate their feelings. It was business. Survival. Protecting the child I saw orphaned was the only good thing I had left, the only good thing I thought I could do. But then there was you … getting to know the woman you became …" there was such emotion in his expression and she struggled to understand. He smiled at her, a sad but genuine smile. "You were the one thing I never saw coming. You restored life to a ghastly soul I thought too withered in the darkness to ever again to feel the warmth of light. But you were sunlight."

"You let me blame you …" she said, nearly a whisper as her eyes glistened with tears. "You're not that monster, Red. If you had let me in … if you had talked to me…"

"Once you learned about the cabal and your parents, nothing would have stopped you from going after them, which would have, more than likely, gotten you killed. As for the rest … I had made too many mistakes. The truth was going to hurt you and the last thing I ever wanted was to see you hurt." His cheek twitched as his eyes drifted and then locked on hers again. "I failed you," Red told her. "But I will do whatever I can to repair the damage to your life."

"I am free because of you," she countered, silent tears beginning to fall.

Red held back his own tears. He didn't deserve them and he didn't deserve her sympathy. He'd failed her. "You should sleep," he told her, pulling away. "We have much to discuss in the morning. Choices to make about our next course of action." And with that, Red walked away, disappearing back into the room across from hers.

When Liz woke again, ensconced in the softest sheets and most comfortable bed she had ever experienced, it took several moments to remember where she was and the circumstances which brought her there. Then it hit her: the bombing, the senator, the shooting … Red. She forced her eyes open. It was day, the sun high off of the horizon. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept through a morning.

She rose and scavenged the dresser for clothing, then opened her door cautiously, poking her head out into the hall. Hearing nothing, Liz made her way to the bathroom at the end of the short hall. She was quickly emerged in the flow of refreshing water, pouring onto her head and over her weary body. She had intended a quick shower but the feeling of being enveloped in that soothing water just held her there, an oasis from reality.

When she did finally emerge from the bathroom, dressed casually in capris and a silky blouse that seemed oddly like something Red would have picked out for her, she found the home deserted. She searched, discovering no sign of Red until she noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen table. Held in place by a Nano 9 mil, the note said, "Went for supplies. Be back shortly. You are safe here but just in case, Red." She picked up the weapon, checked the magazine: full. Popping it back in, she pulled the slide and placed a bullet in the chamber. Tucking the weapon in the small of her back, Liz felt much more secure with the situation, as he knew she would be.

Waiting for Red's return, Liz decided to recon the house. She started with Red's room, neatly appointed with tasteful décor and a King bed with fluffy white sheets and comforter. She checked out the on-suite, finding a built in stone-clad shower, granite-topped vanity and claw foot tub. In the bedroom closet, she found a collection of Red's suits, which he certainly didn't carry there in his little go-bag. She felt fairly confident that he owned this place, not just something borrowed as usual. Like the little apartment he had hidden away, it was a small window into his true self, something the rest of the world didn't get to see.

Returning to the main living space, Liz was greeted by a brilliant view of ocean blues and lush island greens, visible through vast windows that lined the living room and kitchen walls. The house was surrounded by tall trees that obscured its location but still provided wide open views of the ocean in every direction from its many windows and the deck that wrapped around the small structure. Most of the island was untouched by human industry, just a lavish natural landscape. From her current position, the grass landing strip looked like a narrow field lined by thick overgrowth that completely concealed the small shed that had held the ATV. She couldn't see a dock but imagined there must be one. There was a vague outline of the mainland's mountains far in the distance.

The sound of the front door opening startled Liz into instinctive reaction, drawing the gun and pointing it at the person emerging from the outside. She lowered and replaced her weapon as Red came into view, an unusual sight in cream-colored short sleeve shirt and slacks, perfectly fitted as always, but far more casual than Liz was used to seeing. Instead of a Fedora he wore a straw hat of a similar design which he set aside as he entered. His left arm was stretched around a large paper bag and there was a newspaper in his right that he tossed on the table as he made his way to the kitchen.

"I'm glad you seem to have gotten some rest," he remarked, unloading food items from the bag.

"I feel like I have been asleep for days," Liz admitted as her attention was drawn to the recent copy of the times. Above the fold she found a story on the cabal, the shadow government unearthed by investigative journalists that had officials across the world in denial. Below the fold, her picture: an FBI agent now considered one of the ten most wanted criminals. Apparently she was a murderer and a terrorist tied to the equally reprehensible Raymond Reddington.

"I'm sorry," Reds voice came, unexpectedly close, startling her from the article.

"There's little mention of Cooper," Liz turned a determined gaze on him. "Just that he was being questioned as a witness. Nothing about Charlene. No mention of the task force."

"As you described, I am sure the cabal had every intention of taking down the whole lot, but taking out Tom Connelly has apparently altered their course," Red explained. "The media exposure has the cabal scurrying under the cupboards and covering their tracks. I believe Ressler and the team are safe from the cabal's mechanizations for the time being, now that you and I have been made their target. I expect Harrold will be charged in aiding your escape, threatening to charge Charlene if he tries to make waves. The director needs him out of the way."

"I can't let that happen," Liz countered. "What I did … I'll take the fall but Cooper and Charlene deserve none of this." They continued to talk as Red scrambled some eggs and Liz made toast.

"The information you found on Connelly and the video from the train station could go a fair distance toward proving you were set up," Red offered with a sigh. "On the other hand we could hold onto it, use it as leverage to make them back off of Harrold and Charlene, maybe even keep Harrold right where we need him."

"And where would that be?" she wondered suspiciously.

"In a position of influence at the FBI," Red answered, cocking his head at Liz, "but we would be delaying any hope of clearing you of the false charges while we played the longer game."

"And what about the true charges?" she raised an eyebrow at him. When he didn't respond, she decided to follow up in a different way. "Then what is the longer game?"

Red smiled slyly. "We need to stay here out of sight for a couple of days while others tend to our concerns in D.C. I have files on the leaders of the cabal you will want to take this time to get familiar with. They just moved up to the top of the Blacklist. Once Dembe finishes leading Donald on a while goose chase, we will reunite with him and begin our efforts. "

"Then we go after them ourselves? To what … kill them all?" Liz wondered.

"If required, certainly, but I'm sure we can lead Donald to the proof we need. Whether these blacklisters die or are taken into custody, will likely depend on the circumstances."

Liz stood in silence for some moments, watching him put the food on their plates. It was a peculiarly domestic scene for two of the FBI's top most wanted criminals, she thought, snorting softly at the absurdity of it all.

The moon, still mostly full and providing ample illumination, had replaced the fading sun an hour earlier, leaving Liz and Red embraced in its gentle glow as they lounged in the warm breeze of the small home's extensive decking. They each held a glass of hard liquor. Liz really didn't care the variety, just enjoyed the settling of her nerves and the initial waves of inebriation. It was not her first glass, nor was it Red's. They shared a certain confidence in the direction they had chosen for their next moves and let the accompanying trepidation slide to the back of their consciousness. It was an oddly pleasant evening in a whole new world, one so vastly removed from the reality she had taken for granted just days before.

Rising from her deck chair, Liz approached the railing, leaning casually against a post that supported the roof overhang. Red followed her movements with appraising eyes, bringing his own drink to his lips and savoring the flavor along with the view. "You seem to be handling this all remarkably well," he noted, his voice rich and velvety but heavy with concern.

She shrugged, looking back at him. "I don't really have much of a choice," she countered with a weak smile.

Red stood, finishing his drink and leaving it on a glass table next to his chair before slowly approaching her. Careful not to invade her personal space, Red studied her with a fair amount of admiration. "You are stronger than you know," he told her.

"I am not even the person I know," she laughed. She had designed her life around her job, around a world of right and wrong that no longer seemed to exist. Its loss left her free but also adrift.

"I know who you are," he told her with such confidence it made her heart warm. "You are fierce and vulnerable and willing to do anything to protect those you care about. I'm just sorry I brought such chaos into your life."

Liz regarded him curiously, truly looking at the man before her in a way she had not before, deciding that she knew him as well, perhaps better than anyone. Her eyes drifted to his lips, something she had been doing for a long time, but just hadn't let herself admit it. She knew she should look away but instead she smiled and gazed back into his questioning eyes. She knew he would never intentionally hurt her, that he would sacrifice anything for her. It was a tremendously powerful feeling to be the object of such devotion, almost intoxicating in and of itself.

The whole situation was so askew that she found her body and thoughts taking an unexpectedly sensual path, thinking about what his mouth would taste like, how it would feel to have his hands on her. Before she realized what she was doing, Liz leaned into him, eyes dancing between his lips and eyes, and only hesitating when their faces were just shy of touching. She could feel the heat of his breath as her own caught in her throat, every inch of her body tingling in anticipation. Red's eyes had widened in surprise at her move and the two now held each other in a most serious gaze. A sliver of panic crept through Liz's body as she realized what she was doing and how her body had moistened in response to their intimate proximity. Her heart racing and to her own surprise, Liz held her position.

Red licked his lips unconsciously as he studied her face. "What are you doing, Lizzie?" he managed in nearly a whisper. He was so tempted to cross that last little space between them and touch his lips to hers but he would always take her lead. He may have dreamed of the feel of her lips and her body but never really allowed himself to hope that it could happen and he didn't trust that it could happen now. His desires weren't important. He couldn't give into them, no matter how much his every cell yearned for her.

Her mouth opened but her words caught in her throat. She raised a hand to his face, his soft skin warm under her fingertips in a tender caress. Liz shook her head gently, whispered, "I don't know," but before the words fully left her lips she had pressed her mouth to his. Red responded with an intensity of passion that washed all rational thoughts from her mind. Their hands searched each other's bodies with a desperate ache, their kisses wet and hungry. The moment felt surreal, kissing Raymond Reddington with such raw abandon. The reality of what she was doing and who she was doing it with heightened her every desire, the forbidden nature of the involvement driving her body to a state of all consuming need. She wanted him, now, more than anything she had ever wanted before.

It was all Red could do to pull away but he did, forcing space between them. Their eyes locked, desire battling fear and uncertainty. "Ah Lizzie, don't do something you are going to make me regret," he whispered in a growl, his lust tempered by unease.

"No regrets," she told him, suddenly certain of herself, of her deepest desires as if nothing else outside of them existed. She was no longer FBI and he was longer her CI. What difference did it make now if they crossed those lines. She tucked her fingers behind his belt, tantalizingly intimate as a mischievous smile twisted her lips.

Red's face turned deadly serious as he took her wrists in his hands, pulling them away from his body reluctantly. He drew her hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss against her knuckles. "Lizzie, think about what you're doing," he told her, eyes pleading. "Your world has been turned upside down. Don't do this just because ..." he let the thought perish in mid-sentence, fighting his every urge to give in. "I don't think you really want this."

Her eyes narrowed, confusion and anger battling for control. "I know what I want," she assured him, looking from his lips back to his tender, tortured eyes.

Red trembled. If only he could believe her. But no. She had been through too much and she wasn't thinking in her right mind. Red couldn't risk taking advantage of that. She had never touched him before with a sensual intent, had treated him more often than not as a father figure, not this. It was too out of character, too unexpected to accept, too enticing to believe.

She drew her body close to him though he still held firmly to her wrists. "Do you want this?" she ventured, mouth slightly open. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to see what it felt like to be the object of his experienced touch, wanted to lose herself in sensation and forget about everything else.

Lustfulness danced momentarily on his features. "More than anything in the world," he admitted, gazing on her with a volatile mixture of love and desire. The statement startled her. He really wanted her? She didn't know why she had followed the impulse to kiss him in the first place. Maybe to see how he'd react? Maybe just to prove she was still alive, to make her feel. Now her body was on fire and her mind was shuddering from his admission. He wanted her sexually! But then why was he pulling back?

Red licked his lips again, fighting his own urges, his most desperate desires. "But you mean far too much to me to risk causing you even more pain. You've been through too much, lost too much to let you indulge this unconsidered impulse; an act I am quite certain you would regret." Her eyes were swimming with emotion, desire and defenselessness, trying to comprehend. He gently pressed his lips to hers for one innocent kiss and then returned to his room, leaving her agitated and more confused than ever.

Liz returned to her room but couldn't sleep, her mind racing uncontrollably. She had no idea what to do with this new information. Her wanting Red sexually was a revelation, a crazy impulse exposing a long submerged desire, but their encounter had only further shaken her already off-kilter world. He wanted her that way but he walked away … did that mean his feelings for her were … could he really …? She refused to give voice to the full consequences of those thoughts. He had comforted her, held her, during the past two years when she was in need but his touch had always been safe, platonic. When they danced at the embassy, he didn't attempt to pull her close. He was always respectful in that way. He never took advantage of her vulnerability.

Raymond Reddington had women at his beck and call around the globe. Perhaps she was just the one he couldn't have, the tantalizing forbidden fruit: a dedicated FBI agent, the younger woman who as a child he had sworn to protect? She believed he cared about her but was it more a matter of desire or could it be something deeper, something more? And what about her? Liz admitted to herself early on that he was an attractive man, a charming character commanding power and indulging the most exquisite tastes. But he was a criminal and a murderer, holding secrets about her life that kept their relationship in choppy waters. Did he plan it that way? To keep her at arms-length so that he would not indulge that temptation? And now that her career and reputation were in ruins, the most significant secrets between them exposed, why not give in to that mutual desire?

She admitted to Red after the King family nightmare that she cared about him. She wanted him to be safe, not just because it was her job but because she could no longer imagine not having him in her life. How twisted was that, she'd thought, to realize that the nation's fourth most wanted criminal had become more important to her personally than anyone else in her life, her twisted, mostly fictional life? But with both the fictions and the structure peeled away, where did this leave their relationship now? It was not meaning of it all, however, that kept her heart racing in the dark as she lay there in bed. It was the thought of him, of the touch of his lips and caress of his hands and her insatiable desire to feel them again. This is insane, she thought. She was longing for Raymond Reddington, her body aflame as she fantasized about tearing his clothes away, of pressing her naked body to his. Raymond fucking Reddington!

No! She decided to push these thoughts from her mind, to flush her body of these irrational desires. She was not going to sleep with Raymond Reddington, for crying out loud! They had members of the cabal to track down. That would be her focus now, to destroy this insidious corruption that turned her life upside down. Red would help her and she needed him. That's where it would end!

Two seconds after those thoughts sped through her mind, Liz bolted up from the bed. Wearing only her underclothes, she flung her door open, stepped across the hall and knocked loudly for Red. Her heart was pounding so fast she could barely catch her breath. Just as she was about to barge in uninvited, the door opened. Red stood before her in expensive silk pajamas, his expression bordering on anger before she took in her lack of attire, so much skin bared to the moonlight. "Lizzie?"

Liz was in a take-no-prisoners mode. "So much of my life is so completely out of my control," she exclaimed, "but this isn't!" she said, stepping into him. She held him in her certain gaze as her hands worked to unbutton his shirt, top to bottom, and then slid her hand down his pants, feeling him hard and warm in her hand. It was too much for him to hold back anymore. He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her head to him, capturing her mouth in his just as their bodies pressed together. He pulled her into his bedroom, still indulging in her lips and neck. He pulled her bra free and eased her onto the king sized bed, laying kisses down her neck, caressing each breast before tracing kisses down to her belly button. There was just a moment of savoring before he pulled her lacy underwear off in a single desperate move. His pants came off just as quickly and his body was over hers, flesh against flesh, moving deeper onto the bed.

"My Lizzie," mouthed into her neck and their bodies moved together franticly, mouths hungry for each other as he slid into her. Breath catching, Liz pressed herself against him eagerly, clinching around him as their rhythm reached a rapid pace. She moved to run her hands up his sides and around his back but Red stopped her. He interlinked his hands with each of hers, gently forcing them down on the bed behind her head. This wasn't the time for her to discover his scars. Right now they ravaged each other, consumed by each other and an insatiable desire. It wasn't slow and tender but wild and passionate until they finally exploded together and he collapsed against her.