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For the first time in a week, Liz woke up feeling rested.
( Red had gone away on a business trip, and though Liz assured him she and Agnes would be just fine, she quickly realized she overestimated her capabilities or underestimated how big of a help Red usually is )
Taking her time stretching with her eyes still closed against the sun shining through the gap in the curtains, Liz finally turned to check on her baby girl... and her smile dropped along with her heart – the crib was empty.
Panic rising swiftly – someone took her baby!, how could someone take her baby with her just feets away?!, was the kidnapper still in the flat?, oh she's a terrible mother!.. – Liz already had her hand around the handle of the gun under her pillow, ready to haunt the one that took her baby down and rain hell upon them, when her eyes focused on a familiar object sitting on her nightstand that definitely wasn't there when she went to bed.
A brown fedora.
Liz took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling herself begin to calm – Red must have come home earlier than expected and found Agnes fussing so he took her to the living room to let Liz sleep, like he usually does – but didn't release the gun just yet, her strung up nerves not that easily soothed.
She strained her ears to hear what was going on in the living room – Agnes' babbling, or Red's voice, or his footsteps ( their daughter hit the phase in her life when she could barely tolerate it when her parents sat down while carrying her, needing them to be in constant motion ) – but the whole flat was eerily silent.
Trying not to lose it the second time – Agnes could have fallen asleep – Liz got up, gun in hand, and quickly but quietly moved to the living room...
...and the sight that greeted her finally made her not only relax, the hand with the gun falling lax by her side, but smile, warmth blossoming in her chest and misting her eyes.
The Concierge of Crime, the FBI's Fourth Most Wanted, the most famous, prolific and dangerous criminal of the 21st century Raymond Reddington was lying on her couch, his eyes closed and chest rising and falling in the slow, relaxed fashion of deep sleep, with his vest and shirt unbuttoned and Agnes lying on her tummy on his bare chest and stomach, her tiny fist closed around a handful of his chest hair. One of his hands was cupping her downy head, the other her tiny bottom, his position oozing protectiveness even in sleep.
Liz blinked quickly to get rid of the tears welling in her eyes at the sight – her dream come true, the perfect picture of the little family she always longed for – and put her gun down on the kitchen island before moving to perch herself on the edge of the couch beside Red's thighs, careful not to wake either members of her precious family.
For long minutes, she just watched them sleep, finding something incredibly soothing and satisfying in watching the relaxed, metronome rhythm of Red's breathing, Agnes moving slightly up and down on his chest along with it, and knowing without any doubt that the love of her life and their child were safe and sound and happy beside her.
Then, when the feeling swelling in her chest got too big to hold in, she leaned down a bit towards Red and layed a careful hand on his arm while calling his name quietly to wake him without startling:
"Raymond..."
He stirred at once, momentarily tensing, but almost immediately she felt his muscles relax and it took him a few moments to open his eyes, blinking bleary-eyed up at her as a man coming out of a deep sleep.
( And the idea that she and her little girl made him feel so safe, so at home that he could sleep deeply as opposed to almost painfully light sleep she watched him have a number of times during the early years of their relationship, then – just professional, and especially the months they were on the run, made her feel incredibly proud and satisfied, more than any professional achievement she had at work )
Once she was sure he was awake – once his eyes focused on her face and she watched a slow smile dawn on his face, of the genuine and warm variety that were reserved only for his family: her, Agnes, Dembe, Kate... and a couple of the closest associates/friends, on occasion – she smiled and let the feeling out in the form of one tiny and yet impossibly big, especially for them, sentence:
"I do love you."
And then she closed the remaining gap between their faces to kiss him and feel more than hear him saying "I love you, too, Lizzy" in between slow, deep, hungry kisses, the phrase rumbling softly in his chest as she slipped her hand up his arm to cup his cheek and then head and he shifted slightly to keep their little girl secure on his chest with one hand so he could slip his other hand into Elizabeth's lush hair, their kisses growing more heated....
...until Agnes began to squirm, apparently not liking the fact that all attention of her parents was aimed at each other, and let out a hearty wail, making her parents startle and part, laughing, and then her mother scooped her up from her father's arms and let her have her breakfast while her papa watched them with that expression on his face he usually has when he's looking at them, that smile and his eyes glistening slightly, and raised his hand to rest it against mama's arm that cradled her and Agnes finally settled down...
because all was right in her world.