Authors note: This is an idea someone suggested would be interesting to write about. A Red and Lizzie soul mate story. I thought it could be fun to write. I have no idea where this is going or if it's even worth writing more. Is it too weird and farfetched? Perhaps, but it was fun to write anyhow.

Elizabeth rubbed the scar on her wrist with her fingers as she gazed at Reddington from the corner of her eye. She had come for answers about the box she found hidden under the floor boards of her house. She knew Reddington knew why it was there, she was almost a hundred percent still convinced he had it put there himself. After discovering that the hidden gun she found was involved in a crime she could no longer pretend that everything was as it once was. And she did not want to wait for answers; her life kept being turned upside down because of Reddington. She could be at home, with Tom, discussing redecorating the spare room for the child they should have been able to have adopted.

There they sat in silence on a park bench, on what could have been a normally perfect warm spring day. He had yet to ask her why she had requested a meeting with him, although she was sure he knew. He seemed to hold all the answers. Finally tired of the silence she cleared her throat and glanced sideways at him but refusing to turn and look at him.

"You told me I only had two options." She paused to gauge his reaction. But he only nodded and turned his body slightly towards her.

"I won't confront Tom, and I won't turn him in. But you, you know the answers to all my questions. I don't care whether the answers you have are complicated for you to explain or not. I want to know why that box was there, what you know about my husband and the truth about why you chose me. You said it was because of my father." She finished speaking and waited. She doubted he would agree right away, but at this point she was too determined to back down. She was not very far from pulling her gun and holding him at gun point until he spilled his secrets. It seemed as if he didn't even hear her, the way he just stared out at the park in silence. Her patience was wearing thin when he finally spoke.

"The answers are complicated Lizzie, you wouldn't understand if I told you now, you need to figure things out for yourself. I can only help you."

His answer pissed her off and she finally turned swiftly, fully facing him as her voice grew louder in anger. "Help me?! What help have you been? Giving me bread crumbs and taunting me?"

She thought she saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes before it was gone. He was so hard to read, hard to predict, and yet he could read her so perfectly and it infuriated her. She continued to stroke the burn on her wrist, not even realizing she was doing so until she saw his gaze drift down to her hands, which made her freeze her actions. Suddenly he was reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist.

Her eyes went wide as she tried to pull away. "What are you doing?" She demanded, continuing to try to fight back. Yet she received no answer and could not get free from his grasp as he pried open her tightly closed fingers and gazed at her scar. This made her temporarily hesitate in her struggle to break free.

"Why are you so fascinated by my scar?" She blurted out the question without thinking and it distracted him long enough for him to meet her gaze. She recalled him asking to see it during one of the first times they had met. It had been an uncomfortable request, even though she had showed him she had made it quick and made a mental note not indulge him again. The way he had looked at it that day, the curiosity he held for it had unnerved her and she tried not to remember it.

"Everything about you fascinates me Lizzie, you know that." He smirked at her and she knew that wasn't the real answer. He always avoided a real answer; instead he would give a cryptic response or a flirty remark. But before she could even gather her thoughts or attempt to start pulling her arm free again he brought his other hand to the one he held captive and gradually began to stroke the scar from end to end and she gasped.

A feeling was suddenly radiating from her wrist and up her arm as he slowly stroked her scar, his eyes never leaving hers. The feeling felt like it was trying to consume her, setting something deep inside of her a blaze. The mark on her wrist seemed to burn where he touched it, a burn that ached with each pass he made with his fingers over it. She felt paralyzed. This was not supposed to happen. Did he know what he was doing? Did he realize what the mark meant to her and what it symbolized? He smiled at her, as if guessing her dilemma and he stopped stroking her wrist only to bring her hand to his mouth. His breath was hot on her skin as he brushed his lips over the mark, sending a searing jolt of pleasure up her arm and a shiver down her spine.

She was instantly shocked back to her senses and jerked her arm free from him and stood up from the park bench. She clutched her wrist to her chest as she backed slowly away from him, her eyes never leaving him as they searched for answers on his face. But like any other time he revealed nothing as he also stood. "Lizzie, perhaps I can give you some answers. We need to talk Lizzie. And it is long overdue."

He held out his hand to her, clearly the intent was for her to take it. She looked from his hand to his face. She knew if she took his hand there was no going back, if she did this it would set in motion more changes in her life and she had yet to recover from the previous ones. She was too overwhelmed with this new information, this new feeling and the answers her gut told yet she refused to believe them. She did the only thing she knew she could handle: She turned and ran.