What is your fantasy? It’s been the same thing for as long as I can remember. I’m walking in a park with my husband. In between us is our little girl. I’m holding her hand in mine and I never let go.
lizzington week ≡ day six
↳ agnesgate – what scenes indicate that Agnesgate could be real
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But a man made it clear I would never see her… hold her… watch her grow. And I knew in that moment, I would never be any part of that beautiful little girl’s life.
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“You asked a very important question that night in Montreal. You could ask me again.”
He swallows and replays their conversation in his mind, not for the first time since they shared a cocktail and he found himself falling.
“Why would I do that?”
“Lizzy! This is a…”
“Surprise?” she asks in amusement and takes a seat next to him on the bench. “Or are you wondering how I knew where to find you?”
His smile at seeing her had quickly turned to confusion, realizing there was no earthly reason for her showing up out of the blue. Especially since Dembe is still at the safehouse and has no idea of his ramblings this morning.
“It has suddenly crossed my mind.”
“I’m a profiler, Raymond.”
He watches her a moment as she turns her face up and closes her eyes to the sound of the wind rustling through the trees overhead.
“Care to expand on that?”
“Today is the day.”
For what he has no idea, but he could conjure a thousand of them in his mind that include her next to him. Something he has vast experience with after all this time. The days of exploring new landscapes or visiting old haunts without imagining her there, wanting her there, are long over.
“You didn’t slip a tracking device into my pocket did you?”
“Not this time,” which earns her a chuckle and she turns back smiling. “Don’t you feel it?”
He feels everything at once, which is always the way with her, and can only shake his head. “You really will have to be more specific.”
“It finally feels like fall. There’s a bite in the air today.”
“Yes, there is,” he says quietly. Watching. Waiting.
“And I know it’s your favorite season and that you always roam about on that first day of autumn.”
But how would she know? He’s always alone on these crisp mornings when he gets a little lost, enjoying the freedom before winter sets in.
“Contrary to what you may think,” she continues, seeing the question in his eyes. “I do listen to your stories and saw the pattern emerge.”
There is no recollection of it, the clues that led her to this park on this day, but she somehow collected them and chose this morning to test her theory. And judging by the satisfied smile lighting up her face, she is quite pleased with herself. As she should be.
“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
It’s almost like the wind is waiting for her answer, as well. Suddenly it is impossibly quiet while he waits, tilting his head ever so slightly to study her.
“Because I didn’t want to be cooped up in the Post Office when I could be walking along the river with you.”
And that’s all the answer he will get as she stands rather abruptly and makes a point to zip her jacket for longer than necessary.
He will wonder about it, of course, but not right now. Now they will continue on his course toward the water, a route he hadn’t really been aware of until she mentioned it. But he is more than aware of other things. There is the pressure of her hand that eventually slips through his arm and the flush that occasionally rises in her face…..that must be from the chill in the air and the wind that has returned to whip about them as they walk.
….
“I hope you like popcorn.”
“Lizzy, what….”
“...am I doing here?” she asks when he stops, eyes narrowing, as she plops down in the seat beside him. “I came for the movie. Here, hold my stuff.”
The popcorn is handed over, and a drink along with candy and more candy, until her hands are free to remove her jacked and get comfortable.
“Dare I ask how you knew where I’d be at this particular moment?”
“Raymond, we’ve already been through this routine. You see, I’m a profiler.”
“You could humor me this once.”
It makes her laugh and she explains, while reclaiming her purchases from the snack bar. “Well, you are appallingly clueless about current television or film, but have an affinity for the classics. Would you like some of my M&M’s?”
“Perhaps later. Go on.”
“There’s not much to tell. You were reading the paper and something made you smile, which turned out to be the announcement for this theater’s classic movie day. However, knowing you wouldn’t want to come at the regular showing, I figured you’d make a deal with the manager and here we are, nine in the morning on a Tuesday, ready to watch North By Northwest.”
There it is. A clue within the story. What she left out, but what he sees so clearly. She wanted to know what caught his attention, made him smile. She must have found the paper, the exact page, and searched it out until she came across the notice. She was curious and so is he. More than curious. He is fascinated.
He is also a little speechless to say the least, actually he’s thoroughly speechless which causes her to hesitate and the furrow on her brow is there before he can reassure her.
“Perhaps I should have-”
“Did you get butter on the popcorn?” he asks quickly, by way of reassurance.
Her worry goes as quickly as it came and she relaxes back with a grin. “What kind of question is that?”
“I take it back.”
“Hey, you know there’s a mysterious Mr. Kaplan in this movie. That’s a curious coincidence don’t you think?”
“Is it?” he asks with a mysterious smile of his own. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Kaplan about that some time.”
“I just might if I ever get the nerve up,” she mutters, making him chuckle at her honesty.
She leans into him long enough for him to know it’s not by accident just as the lights dim and Hitchcock’s classic springs to life. They’ve seen it before, but never like this. Alone and closed off from the world, even for a short while. Together. It’s difficult to ignore the charge running between them that sparks their awareness of the other. The nearness of their hands and if only one of them would reach out....
But not yet.
Not with their nervous energy as they wonder at these strange turning of events. Ones that she has turned to her liking. And his. Where it will lead them, they can’t possibly know. The answer remains elusive, especially when they are distracted by the two improbable lovers on screen, hiding amidst the monuments of granite, searching for any mode of escape.
Not unlike themselves.
…..
It’s becoming a habit.
Quite unexpected in a way that he now anticipates, looks forward to that sudden thrill when she materializes at his side or endures the disappointment when his solitude goes uninterrupted. There are times he forgets to ask the how or why of it until much later, for it is so natural, so incredibly easy to share these small nothings with her that now seem anything but small.
It is also easy to reciprocate.
“It’s getting late, Agent Keen, and the case, as they say, is closed.”
She sits up with a jolt at her desk and flinches as the muscles in her neck complain at the sudden movement.
“What are you doing here?”
“I ask myself that question on a regular basis and I assure you the answer is always the same.” He walks the rest of the way inside her office and drops into a chair, his fedora coming to rest on a knee. “You.”
The scowl is gone, replaced by something in her eyes he would not dare to name, something he wants to hold close for fear of losing it.
“I’m okay.”
That may be, but it was a disturbing case, the kind that will linger and rob them of sleep. The kind that makes this most difficult of jobs worth doing.
“I know you are, LIzzy,” he murmurs. “But I find myself a little out of sorts tonight and could use the company.
“And Dembe isn’t company?”
The trace of teasing in her voice makes him smile and he returns it in kind. “He’s gone off to BINGO with Mr. Brimley.”
She rolls her eyes and closes the file she has been reading, setting it firmly aside. At least for tonight. This is what they need, the solace they always seem able to find when it is only them. It is later, after dinner, when they are strolling about the neighborhood that she takes his arm and gives him a little pull.
“Where are you taking me?”
“There’s an ice cream place up ahead. If we hurry, we can get a scoop before they close.”
He makes no argument at either the prospect of ice cream or the pleasure of her company for awhile longer. Perhaps that is the reason for her suggestion, not wanting the evening to draw to a close.
But there goes his mind again, running away with him as his thoughts tangle in a knot. That is, until they enter the shop and he stops in his tracks, looking around and then back to where she is watching him.
“Remind you of anything?” she asks with a smile.
“Yes, I’d say so.”
If he didn’t know better he’d swear they were in the little bistro in Montreal. From the tiled walls and checkered pattern on the floor, antique mirrors and even the golden hue of the lighting.
“How long have you known about this place?”
“A few months. I was waiting for the right time to bring you here.”
God the way she can make his head spin and he says nothing more until they have their scoops in hand and take a seat at one of the small tables.
“You could ask me again, Raymond.”
The spoon stops halfway to his mouth and slowly makes a return trip to his bowl. “I don’t understand.”
“You asked a very important question that night in Montreal. You could ask me again.”
He swallows and replays their conversation in his mind, not for the first time since they shared a cocktail and he found himself falling.
“Why would I do that?”
Her words from that long ago night that he borrows, whispering them as she did then, and sees her smile ever so briefly.
“Ask me.”
“Tell me my profile, Elizabeth.”
As complicated as their lives have become, how treacherous the path that has led them here, but how simple it is to tell him.
“You’re a loner. You keep your distance,” she says, drawing from her first impressions of him, only now there is infinitely more. “Except with those you hold dear. Except with me.”
“Lizzy….”
“Even now, you long to hear it, but are afraid of the words you can’t possibly make yourself believe are real.”
He will never be able to ask what they are. He will never have to.
“I love you. That’s what I want you to know.”
Words that would have been impossible to believe in Montreal, but settle in his soul in an ice cream shop in DC. There are words of his own that he has held onto so tightly until this very moment.
“I-”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but the shop is closing.”
The kid behind the counter gives them an apologetic shrug and Raymond laughs out loud. “That is excellent news.”
With a flurry, he drops a rather large tip on the table and takes her hand, leading her back onto the quiet sidewalk.
“Things do seem to have a way of interrupting us,” she comments rather dryly.
“Not this time.”
Not ever again if they have anything to say about it, but they will think about that later. It is all a blur when his hands cup her face and he kisses her as he has wanted for a very long time. As they have both wanted, time and again, but it took a little turn and twist of fate to close the circle.
“I love you,” he whispers, when they finally pull back.
“I know,” as her arms reach up to link behind his neck, waiting for his hands to drop to the small of her back, drawing her in closer. Just as she knew they would. “I’m a profiler, after all.”
