AN: Several of my fics (and of course I'm not alone in this) explore Red's struggle with earning Liz's trust. While watching Secretary for the billionth time a few days ago, it offered a solution to their problem that I simply couldn't ignore. After the little prologue, this fic begins with the conversation at the end of The Kenyon Family, and then expounds upon it. You'll find the fic littered with both big and small references to Secretary, but most of that won't begin until the second chapter.

Song lyrics are from "I'm Your Man," by Leonard Cohen, as featured in Secretary. If it doesn't scream LIZZINGTON, then I don't know what does.

I had originally intended to make this a little longer, but after the way that Red called Lizzie out at the end of tonight's episode, I felt compelled to just go with what I have for now, but I'm not complaining. It feels good when the gist of something that I've written comes out in canon.

Will this get smutty? I haven't decided yet, but well... probably. It seems appropriate. :P

I own neither Spader nor The Blacklist nor the stolen Secretary bits, sadly.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Prologue

-...-...-...,,,...,,,,,...,,,

if you want a lover
I'll do anything that you ask me to
and if you want another kind of love
I'll wear a mask for you
if you want a partner
take my hand
or if you want to strike me down in anger
here I stand
I'm your man

Red's cold shoulder.
The twitch under his left eye.
The stiff lowering of his jaw,
just enough to expose the tips of his bottom teeth.
The moment in which he finally met her icy gaze and said, "ENOUGH."

Anyone else would have seen it coming from a mile away. They must have. Even Ressler had advised her not dump on Reddington so much. He always noticed when things were particularly sour between them.

But still, COME ON. The entire taskforce had witnessed the systematic crumbling of her life at his hands. On day one, she walked in with her chin up and a mere chip on her shoulder.

But then, Red.

He took everything that she thought she once had, one person and one thing at a time until he, himself, became all she had left. The chip on her shoulder was chiseled further and further until she became both armless and disarmed.

All of this, she supposed, was the reason that every time she had lashed out at him (at an exasperating frequency), Red just sat there and took it. He never, ever, ever fought back. Most of the time, he didn't even bother to explain or defend himself, either. If that was meant to be satisfying, well, it wasn't. She should probably tell him that passive supplication is NOT his look.

On the other hand, more than once, Liz had found herself crying, clinging to him for dear life. Despite not being cold, a seemingly-endless string of shivers raced down her spine, prompting Red to tighten his grip. She'd bury her face into the crook of his neck, secretly lamenting the effect of her tear-clogged sinuses, diminishing her ability to inhale the spicy amalgamation of his scent... Sandalwood, Cuban cigars, cloves, balsam, and even what she imagined was Caribbean seawater... somehow.

"He's made you feel a connection that makes you feel like you matter somehow. There's no one on Earth that can make a woman feel like the center of his universe more than Raymond Reddington."

Meeting Naomi had solidified several of Liz's suspicions. Whenever Red doled out extravagant kindnesses, his ex-wife's words played on a loop inside her mind, refusing to be ignored. She'd come to realize that these uninvited gestures usually signaled trouble on the horizon. But then again, when it came to Reddington, what didn't?

Ever since he'd found out about Tom, things between them had become especially tense, and yet, in one tragically-brief moment, Liz somehow felt closer to him than ever before. God, she'd even told him that she cared. The velocity of her unexpected admission hit Red square in the gut, and just before turning his head, his breath hitched a little. He knew that she had noticed, worried that he'd revealed himself too much. The feeling was mutual.

But then, The Fulcrum.

The object. The target. That stupid white whale that he was so compelled to chase.

The reason
for absolutely everything
between she and him,
she now knew,
including this goddamn key.

Both were small enough to be simultaneously stored in a single pocket, and yet, one seemed to imply that he would stay,

while the other

suggested instead

that he

was finally

gearing up to walk away.

-...-...-,,,,,...,,,,,,...,,,,,

Chapter One

if you want a boxer
I will step into the ring for you
and if you want a doctor
I'll examine every inch of you
If you want a driver
climb inside
or if you want to take me for a ride
you know you can
I'm your man

,,,,,...-,,,,,...-,,,,,

After an exceptionally-exhausting day, Liz returned to the Post Office to find Red lounging in her office, evidently waiting for her. When she walked in, his face lit up immediately, but the corners of his mouth slowly fell when she spewed yet another stream of "work-related" vitriol.

"ATF's been over the grounds. They searched the buried containers. If you're wondering about what you stored there, it's long gone."

Either she didn't know that his ability to access his associate's stolen hellfire missiles had just saved her partner's life, or she didn't give a damn. Red was disappointed, but not surprised.

She opened her mouth to go on, but her train of thought was derailed by what looked like a hotel key card on her desk. She eyed him suspiciously as she picked it up. "What's this?"

"A key. I bought you an apartment at The Audrey. Top floor. Splendid view of the Potomac."

"Why?"

"It's time to leave the motel behind." He didn't expect her to accept it without hesitation, but should he really have to explain this? That filthy boat was only the tip of the iceberg, and they'd already been over that.

"I'm happy where I am, thank you." She held it out for him, trying to give it back, but he just shook his head and clasped his hands in his lap. Liz scowled and dropped the key on her desk.

"You've been many things lately, Lizzie, but happy is not one of them. That motor lodge you call 'home' crushes the spirit, smothers the soul."

"And you think a view is gonna change that?" She chuckled mirthlessly. "Reddington, this is neither a milonga nor a negotiation, and I hate to break it to you, but you don't have anything that I want, including this apartment. I KNOW exactly what you want, and I don't have it."

Fine. Story time, then. "I once stayed at a villa in Bali with a view of the Indian Ocean. Every morning, all I saw before me was... possibility..."

His eyes drifted out of focus, and Liz looked away, forcing herself not to dwell upon that familiar, far-away expression. His mind and body seldom coexisted. There wasn't a place on earth that was big enough to comfortably contain the two of them.

Displeased by her silence, Red called upon an old trick, teasing her undeniably-possessive side. "That, and a gorgeous housekeeper named Putu. She was-"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Liz cut him off. "I wish you'd stop."

"Stop what?" His lips quirked, feigning innocence, but he knew exactly where she was going with this.

"Trying! Stop hoping things are gonna get better between us. You and me? It's just business. That's all it's ever gonna be."

Red lifted his chin to meet her gaze, unblinking. "You don't mean that."

"Yes. I. Do. I do mean it. You're the one always saying things that you don't mean. Case in point? That you care about me. We both know that you don't. Everything about you is a lie. And this apartment you bought? I'm sure that it's bugged to the teeth so that you can watch my every move, in hopes of getting your precious little Fulcrum. I DON'T HAVE IT."

The air around them crackled as Red's potential energy transformed into something both static and kinetic. He took a measured breath and swallowed thickly, raising the hair on her arms.

"ENOUGH!" He shouted, nearly wincing at the volume of his voice, but it felt gratifying to raise it. "I'm not going to sit here and beg for the privilege of allowing me to help you."

White knuckles gripping the desk, yes, Liz was quite taken aback. She took a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself, but she was only stalling, really. "I've heard that before."

"Yes, and I would have thought that this should go without saying, but since you brought it up, we both know that you've drawn this line before too. I'm tired of it." He pushed his chair back and stood up, glaring down at her. "Goodnight, Agent Keen."

In an instant, she too jumped to her feet. With her shoulders back, she crossed the desk and positioned herself between him and the door. "What exactly is your problem? Isn't this how we always work? Do you suddenly not enjoy it?"

"My problem is your behavior." His lowered voice prompted her to step closer, and Red took another step forward, matching hers.

"What about my behavior?"

With another step, they were close enough for Liz to feel his breath on her neck. "It's very bad," he growled. Satisfied by her wide-eyed silence, he sidestepped around her and made his way to the door. In a single, fluid motion, he put on his fedora and turned back to shoot her an icy glare. "Feel free to call me when you're ready to grow up."

-...-...-,,,...,,,...,,,...-
Ah, the moon's too bright
the chains too tight
the beast won't go to sleep
I've been running through these promises to you
that I made and I could not keep
oh but a man never got a woman back,
not by begging on his knees
or I'd crawl to you baby
and I'd fall at your feet
and I'd howl at your beauty
like a dog in heat
and I'd claw at your heart
and I'd tear at your sheet
I'd say please, please
I'm your man

-...-...-,,,,,,...,,,,,...,,,,

Right after their fight, Red hopped into his jet and left the country. He had planned on giving Liz the next name on his list, but after what he viewed as a baseless, ungrateful rejection of the apartment, he abandoned that idea. She'd probably take the change of subject as a victory, and he was dead-set on NOT rewarding her behavior by cowing to her whims. The blacklister could wait. Red wasn't ready to take on another week of sarcasm and scowls.

However, he hadn't survived for so long by taking every given opportunity to do nothing. A Vermeer in Florence still awaited its rightful owner, and he intended to acquire another piece to offer up as an appropriate mea culpa as well.

In the meantime, if Maddie happened to soothe his bruised ego, well, that was just fine with him. He wouldn't sleep with her, no. Red wasn't interested in that, not in the least, but the woman had certain qualities that remained unmatched. Chiefly among them was how much she still wanted him, despite the fact that they'd never once parted on good terms.

It felt so, so good to finally be the one saying, "No."

As skeezy and soul-smothering as Liz's motel was, at eighty dollars per night, it was also expensive as a long-term residence. No, not by DC standards (it was, in fact, the cheapest place around) and certainly not by Red's either, but to her, it was. For such a tiny little cube, it was. Liz enjoyed the privilege of having minimal cleaning duties, and neighbors that she could pass in the hall without having to say 'hello', but the mini-fridge was at max capacity with only her boxed chardonnay. She used to buy countertop-friendly varieties, but those were all so... red.

Talk about stubborn.

She knew exactly where he was. His new DARPA chip almost made it too easy. What she wondered, however, was whether or not he had any idea how often she'd opened her laptop to 'check his twenty,' as they say. More importantly, was he there to screw that bitch who'd nearly gotten her killed at the embassy? And if he was, was it just another attempt to piss her off?

It had been five days already. Not only did he seldom spend so much time in one city, but they usually didn't go this long without having any sort of correspondence. Shouldn't he at least have another name for her by now?

It's not like Liz missed him. She was just BORED. Handling Cooper was easy enough. He only asked about Red once, and if he had any suspicions, he didn't let on. He was more than happy to see everyone caught up on their paperwork.

Ressler, on the other hand, might as well have had a death wish. Not only did he ask about Red daily, but he had also started to make increasingly-lewd and asinine jokes about the nature their relationship.
This wasn't one of them, but it might have been even worse. "You need to call him."

"That isn't how it works," she replied. "You know that." Her jaw tensed under the effort of keeping her voice steady.

"No, that isn't how it WORKED, you mean. Nobody and nothing actually works right now. It's time to try another approach."

Goddamn it all. Captain America was right. This was, in fact, exactly what Red had told her to do. Usually, he brought the names to her, but as far as she could tell, this had become a game of chicken. Liz was still coming to terms with the inevitability that she would be the first to crack. "Fine. I'll call during my lunch break."

Her partner scoffed, "We've had a week-long lunch break, Keen."

"I said I'd call him."

"But why not now?" From across the room, he fixed his eyes upon hers, silently daring that she look away. Liz wasn't dumb enough to do that.

She held his gaze and turned it around on him. "Don't I always offer up pertinent information when I have it?"

"Would I even know if you didn't?"

Nope! "I never know, with him, so it follows that you'd never know with me either, right? There's little I can do about that."

Eyes narrowed and lips pursed, it didn't escape Liz just how much she had sounded like Red. She picked up the key, slipped it into her coat pocket and made her way towards the elevator.

Like it or not, it was time to grow up.

-...-...-,,,,,,-...-'-,,,,,,
and if you've got to sleep
a moment on down the road,
I will steer for you
and if you want to work the street alone,
I'll disappear for you
if you want a father for your child,
or only want to walk with me a while
across the sand
I'm your man