A/N: This is my first fanfic ever, so I'm sorry if there's any issues with the format or how it's set up. Also I would really appreciate comments/reviews and if you're kind enough to leave any, please be as constructively harsh and critical as you can be so I can get better at it :) I'm not sure how far I'm going to go with this story. It'll probably depend on the reaction I get from it, but I'll keep y'all updated.

Seeing the movie isn't really necessary to read this, but here is a link to the trailer of the movie, Radius, so those who haven't seen it can have a bit of context: watch?v=NExqMxRRM64&vl=en-US

I'm pretty sure it's on Netflix[U.S] right now (Jan 2019) so if you wanna see it, that's where I saw it. It's an amazing movie, honestly one of my favorites. I just hope I do it justice.

DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters of the Blacklist or the concept of the movie, Radius. Nor do I own anything with YouTube or Netflix.

He used to love being out here. He relished the cold mountain air numbing his cheeks and hearing the chirping birds in the rustling leaves every morning. In the middle of the day, he'd watch the chattering woodland creatures scurry around him as he chopped wood and strolled through the trees, hiking past the rippling streams. At night, he would bask in the warmth of a crackling fire that invigorated the shadows cast upon the walls of his cabin; the smell of fresh kindling filling his nose and the taste of whiskey tingling on his lips as his fingers flipped the pages of whatever book had called to him that evening. It used to be a reminder that he was alive; a chilling, fragrant, vibrant reminder that there was more to his life than being buried in paperwork and chasing criminals. More to see than blurry pictures of terrorists. More to hear than the deafening gunshots and explosions. More to smell than blood-soaked rooms and trails of burning gasoline.

Now he hates it. He can barely remember the things he wanted to get away from. Can't imagine how he used to live. But he missed it. He missed the idiots honking at him after they almost ran him over. He missed the disgusting smells of unknown whatevers wafting up from the streets he ran through. He missed the frustrating gridlock of rush hour. Most of all, he missed not having to hunt or forage for food; not having to search high and low for some semblance of real comfort. Not having to wonder whether he'd rather freeze to death or starve to death. Everything was turned around now. And if he had any choice in it at all, he would go back to his life of falling asleep at his desk or trying not to get shot.

He had been wandering around the woods for almost two hours now. He scolded himself for doing this so late; finding food was hard enough when the snow was almost up to his knees. Trying to do it without the full light of the sun was almost impossible. Granted, he figured that fixing the hole in his roof and keeping the cold out was more important to finish early, but still he was worried. He had about another hour or two before the sun would set and he had yet to find anything to eat. It's usually easier for him. Walk around for five to ten minutes and he'd find a dead rabbit, or a bird would fall from the sky. Today, he wasn't so lucky.

Just as he had almost resigned to digging into the emergency canned rations he had saved up, he saw it. Slender legs with a sumptuous body. Thick fur that kept the cold away. Yeah, she was beautiful, alright. And he wanted nothing more than to have her for dinner. He crouched down as the doe turned towards him. It stared at him, making no movement as caution flooded its body. He gauged the distance from it, realizing he was much too far to kill it without startling it.

Come on, just one step closer. Don't you run from me.

Still it stared at him. It looked as if it had been frozen in place by the cold weather. The same weather that was making itself known to his extremities. If he doesn't kill this thing soon, he was going to have a hard time getting back to the cabin in the dark. But he also didn't want to go home empty-handed. He willed the doe to come closer, but apparently it couldn't read minds.

Idiot.

Eventually, he lost his patience and made to move towards the doe. Still crouching, he carefully lifted his leg from the snow and set it before him. As he stepped down, however, the crunching snow and the movement of what it had been watching for the last several minutes spooked it, and the doe hopped off, leaving behind upturned snow and a frustrated mountain hermit.

Goddamn it.

He sighed and turned back towards his cabin, both burning with annoyance and shivering from the dropping temperature. He made it back with just enough light seeping through the trees to guide his way into the cabin. When he reached the front door, however, he noticed a black shape on the ground by the side of his cabin, covered by a light blanket of snow. As he walked closer, the sight took his breath away.

Oh, fuck.

Just when he thought this day couldn't get any worse. He sighed as he crouched down by a body lying face down in the snow. He carefully turned it over and came face to face with a woman, her face pale and her softly parted lips almost blue. Her auburn hair, sprinkled with snow, waved at the ends and cascaded just past her shoulders. Frost crusted lightly on her eyelashes and if he wasn't so contrite at the moment, he would've found her to be graceful in death, even as a few bruises and cuts marred her face. That may have been the worst part for him. Taking the life away from a beautiful, innocent person. There was no getting used to it. He'd come out here to keep away from everyone, putting up threatening signs around the property to dissuade people from coming close. It usually worked, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Guilt gnawed at his heart, the same feeling he'd felt since this whole mess began. He hadn't killed anyone in almost a year. Hell, he hadn't seen anyone for that long. Seeing this poor woman just brought back all the shame that he had worked so hard to push down. He clenched his jaw, disgusted with himself in not doing enough to keep this from happening. He shook his head as he felt prickling in his eyes.

Goddamn it, I'm sick of this.

Rubbing his eyes clear of the tiresome rage and disgrace that threatened to flood over, he positioned his hands to lift the woman, deciding that he couldn't leave her like this. The least he could do was give her some kind of burial.

As he gently placed one hand under her knees and another under her shoulders, she shifted. A weak, broken groan emanated from her throat and he fell back, scooting away in shock.

What the hell..?

He looked over the woman, still lying frozen and unmoving.

That...that wasn't real right? I'm finally going crazy out here?

He shook his head and willed his sense to come back to him. Quickly, he rushed beside the woman, taking his right hand out of its glove and warming it up with his breath as much as he could before placing two fingers on her neck. His heart almost stopped as he could barely feel a slow, weak pulse tapping against his fingers.

Holy shit.

He lifted her up as gently as possible and walked briskly into his cabin, laying her down softly onto his bed. He brushed away as much snow as he could from her hair, face, and clothes, and eventually resigned to taking off her soaking coat and hanging it off of the bedpost. After a few seconds of awkward deliberation, he decided to strip her of her drenched shoes, socks, pants, and shirt and hung them on a clothesline above his sink. He felt that if she woke up with absolutely no clothes on, she wouldn't appreciate it so he left her underwear alone. Being almost completely naked didn't seem like the best way to wake up in a stranger's cabin in the middle of nowhere, but he would much rather apologize to someone screaming at him than to a grave.

He then rushed off to his wardrobe, pulling out a thick coat and as many blankets as he could find, and made his way back to her. He sat on the side of the bed, carefully propping her up on his shoulder as he worked to put the coat on her, slipping her arms through and lifting the hood over her head. Finally, he laid her down tenderly, covering her with five blankets and tucking her into a soft, warm cocoon.

He looked over her for a few minutes, bundled in his bed, and noticed the cold pallor already beginning to drain away; the color returning to her face and lips. He then realized how tense he was, feeling his heavy breathing slow down as he felt the worst of the crisis abating.

She's alive… Am I dreaming?

He walked over to the fireplace and added more wood to the dying flame, tending to it with a poker.

Is she just...immune to it?

When the fire began to crackle and dance, he pulled out some water and filled a kettle. He placed the kettle on the wood stove, lit the fire, and made his way back towards the woman. Pulling a chair near the bed, he warmed his hands and felt for her pulse and her breathing again. Her pulse was much stronger and her breathing was more prominent than earlier and he allowed himself to smile at that. He grabbed a book from the nearby nightstand and settled into the chair, determined to stay and monitor the woman's vitals through the rest of the night.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Again, if y'all could kindly leave comments/reviews to help me with the story+writing in general, I would greatly appreciate it. If you do, please be as constructively harsh and critical as you can :)