Chapter Text
The first time they have a phone call Lizzie finds it hard to stay on the line.
She wasn’t expecting to miss his voice quite so much and have such a reaction.
She wasn't expecting to miss him so much.
She expected it to take some time to adjust to her new life back in DC. She expected that she would have to ease herself back into working for the bureau. Then, after a month of two, she expected to feel comfortable here.
But she really, really, didn’t expect to find her insides twisting at the sound of his voice. It wasn't butterflies, no. It was more dark and strong and intense. And it settled in her belly all through the call, after the call, during her sleep and stayed there during the next day. It’s a nice feeling, though. It’s scary and pointless, but very nice. She thinks that it’s the best feeling she’s had in four months.
She wonders why she’s never called him.
Even though she missed him, it didn’t mean she had the nerve to tell anyone, or call the number he had left her. She’s held the little piece of white paper in her hand often. Just a number in black print. His hand writing, neat and smart-looking. Maybe if he had written, ‘call me any time’ or, ‘please call, Lizzie’, she would have. But it was just a number. He didn’t even sign it with his name.
It had been four months since Red gave her the number. Was it even his number? She can barely remember what he said when he passed it to her. He peeled open her clenched fist and slipped it in her hand. They were hugging, kind of. A one armed sort of hug because if she had wrapped both arms around him she’s not so sure she would have let him go. Dembe was also watching along with Mr Kaplan, so she refrained from making too much of a scene.
‘Just in case.’ He said.
Just in case what? That she found herself in danger again? Does ‘just in case’ mean it’s perfectly fine to call him and see how he is? Does it mean that when she’s had a bad day at work she can call him? When she’s laying in bed and she’s restless and upset? He didn’t give her any rules, but she assumed it meant for emergencies. He could have said, ‘just in case you feel like a talk.’
She would have rung him if he said that. Probably rung him too many times and perhaps that's why he didn't say 'anytime'.
The months seem a lot longer since his departure. It has nothing to do with the long, summer hours and everything to do with the fact that she thinks about him way too much. Even at work when Cooper’s giving orders and she should be listening. Even when she wants to be listening. She was at work when Dembe called. It was a Monday afternoon and they had just wrapped up a case which Dembe was pleased to hear. He had helped a lot with tracking down the suspect even though it was only through phone calls. It wasn’t a big surprise when Dembe called, but it was a surprise when he said he would get Red to call her.
Dembe would get Red to call her? Couldn't Red get himself to call her?
"There's no need, Dembe. I'm fine."
"You ask how he is every time."
"Yes. And you answer and it's great."
It's all she needs, she thinks.
"I think he would like to speak to you." Dembe tells her.
"You think?"
"I know he would."
"Well... he has my number."
"And you have his."
Lizzie thinks that she's managed four months without Red. She doesn't need to speak to him, she tells Dembe. But then there's managed and then there's enjoyed . Two very different things.
And how well has Red managed being away from her? She guesses he's probably kind of use to it.
It’s a Friday night when they have their phone call, or early Saturday morning. It's Aram's birthday and Liz is out with the team and a few of Aram's closest friends. It's a little after one in the morning when she decides it is probably time to make her way home. She hasn’t been this tipsy, maybe drunk, since college, and while she no longer has to work weekends, she likes to make the most of her days off. Curling up in the darkness of her room with a bad hangover was not her preferred Saturday.
She thinks about Red just a little when she’s out at the crowded bar. Thinks that she should probably stop thinking about him quite so much.
Aram has a good group of friends. She’s listens to the stories about him and his younger days and there's a few that she finds quite unbelievable. Aram did what!? Aram swears they’re joking, and she swears that he’s not the only one who can track down people and their history on the computer.
“You wouldn’t.” It makes her laugh how aghast he is.
“I might.”
One of Aram’s friends, an elementary school teacher, has been speaking to her most of the night. He is nice enough, really nice in fact, but Lizzie is nowhere near ready to engage with his sudden flirtatious manner. To be fair, they’ve both had their fair share of drinks, so she can’t blame him and his loose tongue. But before Liz loses the ability to care, and to say ‘to hell with Red I don’t even care about him’, she asks for a glass of water.
“You’re leaving?” He asks. His names Tim too, and it’s too similar to Tom for her to want to even say it out loud. She feels him watching her as she gives Aram a brief hug goodbye. He really does seem a genuinely good person, but no matter how long it's been since she's had a date, she's not ready.
“Yeah,” She smiles, refills her glass with more iced water. “I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow. I’m decorating at the moment.”
“Nice. So, uh, before you go. Do you think you’d maybe like to get dinner sometime?”
“Um, I’m just-” She swallows, can see Aram give her a crooked grin from behind. “I’m not really in that sort of place right now.” She admits.
Not in that sort of place? Or just not in that sort of place with him? She wonders. Really, she thinks, the truth is that she will never be ready for anyone now. Unless...
“Hey, no worries.” He laughs, and it’s a little awkward, the poor guy. “If you ever change your mind just give Aram a nudge.”
“Okay, I will.” Her smiles brightens, and it actually feels very real. She will. If she ever gets out of this four month long funk, she will ring him. “Have a good night.”
She says goodbye to Samar on her way out. Samar offers to help with her so called ‘decorating’ on Saturday. Lizzie laughs a little; the lie slipped out so easily. Ressler is nowhere to be seen, but he’s been seeing a woman for a couple of weeks now that he probably disappeared hours ago to see her. Its funny, Liz thinks, as she waits for her taxi, the fresh air cooling her heated cheeks, how close they have all become now. There were moments during the last few years where she thought she'd never see any of them ever again.
Her drive home isn’t too bad. The taxi driver doesn’t bother her which is a blessing because her head can’t take it. It’s not until she’s laying on her back in the middle of her bed that Lizzie really misses Red. She’s been going to bed so late because of it. Sleep is so silent. Or, trying to sleep is so silent. It makes her think too much. Her head is spinning now, too, which makes her feel queasy. She wonders when four months will turns into eight months. Will it be any easier?
In college she was sometimes impulsive when she’d had too much to drink. A little over confident, reckless. So tonight, just to be sure, she has left her phone in her handbag hanging on the bedroom door handle. It's terrible how she really doesn’t trust herself with it. Especially when the little piece of white paper was in her bedside draw.
She closes her eyes in the dark room. Thinks that maybe since she’s had a bit of alcohol she’ll fall asleep easily. But then she has this dream that she’s falling and her body jolts, and she really, badly, wants to talk to him that she feels her knees curl into her chest, and she starts to pretend that she's with him. This is bad she thinks, as she pictures him with her. So bad. They're sitting so close together and she's talking a lot. More than she's ever talked before and he's listening to her like whatever she is saying is the most important thing ever.
Then her phone vibrates. And it's painful when she leaps from her bed. She presses her hand to her forehead, massages her temples. Never again. She will never drink so much again. There’s a dull ache behind her eyes, and that sudden movement has made her unsteady on her feet. She shuffles in the dark toward the door, doesn’t bother with the light and searches inside her bag.
She's not sure if it's her eyes, wet and drowsy, that trick her, or if she's still in her own imagination, but she freezes when she finds her phone. Her thumb hovers over the green logo. The number Red left blinks on her screen.
She hadn’t even saved it on her phone; she was too scared she would accidentally call it.
It could be Dembe, she thinks, but knows that’s not really possible because Dembe has his own number. She lets it ring a few time. Just stares at it. Then she moves to sit back on her bed.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Lizzie.”
There’s a brief pause while she swallows, gathers her voice. The rooms dark and she could almost pretend he's sitting right here with her. She lets her eyes fall shut at her name said in his voice. It’s nice how she can picture him saying it. The tip of his tongue sliding along the back of his top front teeth. Lizzie. She kind of wants him to say it again. She thinks that maybe if she says nothing he will.
“Lizzie?”
She lifts her clenched fist to her mouth and bites down on it. Not hard enough for pain, but hard enough to get her to say something.
“Red. Hey, hi. Where are you?”
“Out to dinner at this little Chinese place I've started to visit frequently." His cheerful voice is so expected. "I was just thinking about you… actually.”
“You’re having dinner at one thirty in the morning?”
“It’s never too late, nor too early for dumplings, Lizzie. But, it's just past eleven here. How are you?”
“Right, of course. I forgot you weren't ... here. Good, yeah. Things are going well.”
It’s the truth, she thinks when she says it. Things are going well, but they could be going better.
“That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah, works been pretty hectic, but you know, it’s good. I like it.”
“Did I wake you?” He asks.
“No, no I was, uh-” She presses her fingers to her forehead, squeezes her eyes shut. Liz hates the way she's stuttering. She didn’t expect to feel like this when they talked. And why does he finds it so easy to speak? He sounds so smooth and in control. Red, just sitting there eating Chinese and speaking to her as if they hadn’t been apart for four months. “At Aram’s birthday.”
“Dembe did mention that.”
“Oh.”
Dembe had asked Red to call her. She had almost forgotten.
“Are you alright, Lizzie?"
“Yeah. I'm just tired. You caught me at a bad time.”
But she's not sure whether there would ever be a good time. Or, really, this is actually a perfect time because she's been drinking and talking to him shouldn't be so hard.
“Right." He sounds suddenly unsure. "Yes. You should sleep, Lizzie. It’s late-”
"Bye, Red."
She hangs up quickly and slides the phone under her pillow.
Shit. No. That wasn't suppose to happen.
She presses her face into her pillow, thinks that she should have talked longer. That was the worst goodbye she has ever said. Their first phone call in four months and she didn't even ask how he was. Didn't even let him finish his sentence.
Another couple of minutes go by and she still can't believe she flaked on him. She wasn't expecting to do that. Though, she wasn't expecting him to call her either. What did he really expect? I'll just call Lizzie at one in the morning and expect her to not at all be affected by it? Then her phone vibrates beneath her head. It's not continuous, just a text . Probably Aram making sure she got home alright.
‘Goodnight.’
One word. Did he take those long minutes deciding what to send?
She’s not sure if it’s that one word that does it, or because she's had three tequila shots and too much wine, but she calls him back with nervous fingers.
“Hi, Lizzie.”
"Did Dembe tell you to call me?"
There's a pause and she knows the answer just from his silence.
"Yes."
"Okay. I thought so."
He clears his throat, makes this odd noise through the phone, and she wonders if he's loosening his tie.
"But it doesn't mean i haven't been thinking about you."
She smiles then, thinks it's almost embarrassing how easily he can flip her mood. Red has been thinking about her. What has he been thinking? She curls onto her side and closes her eyes, then pulls the blanket over her shoulders.
"Very much or not very much?" She asks, and her eyes pop open comically. It's the last thing she expected herself to say.
"A lot, Lizzie."
Her eyes close again because he sounds very serious. A lot. Is 'a lot' as much as she's been thinking about him?
"You gave me your number." She says.
"Yes ... For you to call if you ever wanted to talk."
"So, it's not just for emergencies?"
"It's for both. "
"Okay."
He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. She wonders it he's eating or something, and is he eating with others? Is Dembe sitting next to him?
"Who are you with?"
"No one."
"You're eating alone?"
"I'm talking to you."
"What are you eating?"
He chuckles, it's sweet and low and it makes her smile. "Sichuan-style dumplings. They're a nightmare to pick up with chopsticks."
"Especially when you have your phone in your other hand."
"That's very true."
"You could hang up the phone i guess." She says.
"That is an option, yes."
"But that doesn't seem like a very Raymond Reddington thing to do."
"I do like a challenge."
"Yeah." She grins, throws a hand over her face and thanks god that this isn't video calling. "What have you been doing for these last four months?"
"A lot of travelling. Too much. I think i may now have a case of permanent jet lag."
"Have you been sleeping?"
"A little."
"Red." She says, and her voice catches in her throat when she realizes how concerned she sounds. "Can you please, maybe, sleep more?"
"I don't rely on sleep very much. I dislike it."
"I don't think you really hate it."
"No, you're right." He sighs. "But i do find it difficult."
"You need to sleep. You won't be able to function without it, and i don't care how 'accustomed to no sleep' you are."
"I didn't call for you to mother me, Lizzie, but i will try to sleep tonight." He says, and she can tell he's teasing because his tone rises. "Just for you." He adds and she glares in the darkness of her room. Pointless, really, because he can't see it.
"Why did you call me?" She asks. "Is it just because Dembe said you had to? Because i didn't tell him to say anything."
"Dembe only gave me a little encouragement, Lizzie."
"And what does Dembe's encouragement sound like?"
"He said: I think Elizabeth would like you to call her."
"I never said that."
"I suppose that's why he said 'I think'."
"And then you called?"
"And then i thought about it ... thought about you. Thought about how much i had been thinking about you, and then i called."
"Right. Okay."
"I'm sorry, Lizzie." He pauses, she can hear him breathing and the faint sound of dishes clanging together. "For not calling earlier."
"I didn't call you either, Red."
"You did. About ten minutes ago."
She chuckles, gives him a tired, "Mm."
"You're tired."
"No?"
"You should go to sleep, Lizzie."
"I'm not tired."
"You sound tired."
"I'm not ready to sleep."
Or just not ready to hang up yet, she thinks. He's right though, of course. Her body is weak and eyes heavy, it's a surprise the phone in her hand hasn't slipped yet. If she sits up it might wake her, but she's so comfortable here, laying in bed listening to him. She's imagined this. She's afraid that if she ends the call she won't be able to sleep at all.
"How was Aram's birthday? How is Aram?"
"It was good. He's good."
"And how about Donald?"
"He's good too."
"Shall I go though the whole task force? Or does 'good' sum up everyone?"
"How are you?" She asks.
"Good."
"That's good."
She can hear him laughing at her, she's not sure why, but she knows she's close to sleep.
"You're falling asleep on me, Lizzie."
"I am."
"Another time, then?"
"You think we'll speak again?"
"If one of us calls."
"Do you want me to call you?" She asks.
"Yes."
"Okay, Red. I might."
"You might?"
"Yeah ... maybe i will."
"Alright, well, Lizzie. You should sleep and i'll look forward to the possibility of you maybe calling."
"You can always call me."
"I will."