Found the perfect song for angsty writing: "Don't Deserve You" by Plumb. Thank you to FrostyBear4 for the prompt/request for some flangst :) and thanks to BlackInk07 for previewing and encouraging!
As always, I do not own anything related to The Blacklist; just playing!
*****
"Don't we deserve a chance?" She waited, her gaze pinning him, his impassive "That is, unless you don't want me?" she held her breath, afraid to even consider that alternative.
He crushed her to him then, appalled at himself that he could even let her think that.
"You must know that's not true," he whispered into her hair. He knew he would die before letting her go.
They were going to start with dinner.
Both Lizzie and Red had agreed that it would be a safe place to begin. For all the undercover operations, all the time spent on his jet, all the conversations in busy coffee shops, the had never actually sat down and completed a meal together. For Lizzie's part, she had usually been too keyed up about their assignment, too anxious to relax enough to enjoy a meal with him. And as for Red, well, he had already spent a fair amount of time trying to convince her to sit and eat, enjoy a cocktail, try the baklava, eat the pecan pie.
She hadn't been able to decide on something fancy enough for wherever he was taking her, so she had eventually decided on something that would be passable for most occasions, a navy shift dress and a charcoal wrap paired with stilettos and a delicate silver chain with a small teardrop diamond that had been a graduation gift from Sam; wearing it always reminded her of his steady presence, calming her. She definitely needed calming tonight, she thought to herself.
Lizzie was acutely aware of his closeness on the seat next to her, of the rich scent of his cologne enveloping her like a warm breeze. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she resisted; he looked so pensive as he stared out the window of the town car in his suit.
Red peered out the window, desperately fighting the urge to rest his palm on the bare skin of her thigh, exposed by the lift of her dress when she had slid onto the seat next to him. It had taken him over an hour to choose his clothing for the evening, he was so nervous about their dinner. He wanted this with her, wanted it with every cell in his body. An equally powerful and opposing urge to run away strangled him, as it had every moment since they had concluded their passionate coupling. Everything about their situation screamed out at him "Danger!" He knew continuing this relationship would expose her to the perils of his life and he needed to protect her. The warring emotions battled in his head, vying for conquest.
"Red?" her uncertain voice pulled him from his musings.
He turned his head to look at her.
"Are you...is everything ok?" she asked hesitantly.
"Certainly, my dear. Everything is fine." He smiled at her.
"You seem," she paused, dropping her gaze to her lap where her fingers were twisting together nervously, "If this is too much for you, if you don't want to...we don't have to do this," she finished finally, eyes still on her hands.
"No!" he replied automatically. "I mean, I do want to have dinner with you. I want to...date you." He stumbled over the word; it was so pedestrian, far too insubstantial a term for what was between them.
His reassurances calmed her marginally, but she still felt unsure. Her uncertainty must have showed on her face, because he continued, his jaw working nervously between his words as he struggled to give voice to his own doubts.
"Lizzie, you must understand, that for the better part of your life, my primary concern has been your safety. To do something which puts you in peril is a direct contravention of everything I believe. Every fiber of my being is crying out, urging me to walk away from you, to run as far and as fast as I can in the opposite direction because not doing so puts your life in immediate, incontrovertible danger." His eyes never left hers during his speech, boring into her with the intensity of his words.
"Red, I-" she began.
He stopped her, holding up a hand as he cut her off, his voice insistent, "Do you understand that the people who want me dead will stop at nothing, nothing, to see that a reality? That includes kidnapping, harming, even killing people close to me, even a young, beautiful FBI agent." His voice faltered and he broke eye contact with her for a moment, returning to stare out his window before he gathered himself and continued, quieter.
"There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you, Elizabeth. Except the one thing I should do, which is walk away from you now. And...trying to come to terms with that, with the realization that I cannot do the one thing that would protect you best, because of my own failing, my own lack of self-control, is proving...difficult for me. So, please, just try to bear with me while I reason this out with myself." He finished his rant, and turned his eyes once again to study the passing scenery in the fading light.
Lizzie sat in stunned silence in the impending darkness, mouth agape, staring at him. In slow motion, she turned her eyes forward. She felt like a weight was pressing down on her chest, like she couldn't breath. "Stop the car."
Red turned to her, "Lizzie-"
"I said, stop the car!" she exclaimed.
Their driver pulled over, braking against the curb. Before the car had completely halted, Lizzie had already pulled open the door and bolted out. She stomped quickly away from the car, pulling her wrap tighter around herself protectively.
"Lizzie!" he called after her. She ignored him, her pace increasing as she furiously swiped at the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
