~ I don't own any of the characters ~ (Gotta be the most uninteresting disclaimer ever)
The click of a swipe key in the door was all the warning she had that she was about to have company. She nestled into the lounge chair she was sitting in; adjusting her limbs into what she deemed to be a relaxed and bold pose, all the while adrenaline flooded her as she prepared herself for the confrontation to come.
Two sets of footsteps in the hall. She listened carefully as they halted, suddenly becoming aware that there was an intruder in the apartment. Footsteps again, this time lighter, quicker, as though searching out the threat that had entered their safe house.
He appeared at the door of the living room she had made herself comfortable in, his gun drawn, and Dembe one step behind. She flinched. Despite every intention to control her features and movements, she couldn't help it. Seeing him after all these months, remembering the last time they had spoken was more than enough to set her pulse racing. She clenched her teeth and breathed deeply through her nose.
And smiled.
"Well hello Red...Dembe."
Silence stretched before them as they stood in the doorway. His jaw worked convulsively, disbelief etched into the lines of his face. His eyes...oh, God, his eyes said so much. She flicked her gaze away for just a moment to catch her breath but returned to his face and waited, watching carefully.
"Lizzie."
Spoken low and roughly, her name elicited the most unsettling jump in her belly. She tensed, pushing aside the feelings just one word from his lips could bring to the surface. She wouldn't let him manipulate her, she wouldn't.
He lurched forward into the room, toward her, hand outstretched, stopping short as she scrambled up from the lounge chair and away from him.
"Please stay where you are. I won't be here long. There's no need to…whatever it is that…" She jittered.
"Stay where I am? Lizzie, how did you escape? Are you okay? Was it of your own volition or were you released? Did anyone follow you?"
His words were strident and urging, confusing her with their intensity.
Escape. Yes, she had escaped. She had spent months in a facility where very little English was spoken, the least of her worries, if she was honest. Her isolation had been a complete thing, blanketing her, suffocating her, and eventually extinguishing any hope of rescue or escape.
He hadn't left his place in the middle of the room, his hand still outstretched.
"I've been looking for you Lizzie..." he started, his throat closing in, emotion heavy in his voice. He began again, "Every day, every single day since you were taken... I found where you were early on. I've spent every resource, choked the life out of every connection to try and get to you. How did you get out, sweetheart? When the best I could throw at them couldn't get in?"
As he spoke, Liz carefully settled an expression of light-hearted satisfaction on her face. She needed to get what she came for and get out, before she was sucked into his game. She knew enough now to know she wasn't just a pawn on the board like she had initially believed after the Braxton incident. But she wasn't his queen either. Another held that place.
She couldn't really judge him. Perhaps she would have done the same. Who could know? She didn't want a place on this chessboard any longer though. She wanted out, a new identity, a new life where she could forget the past months, even the past years. She'd thought about it. Who else but the Concierge of Crime? This is the package he offered, wasn't it? He'd said so himself at one time or another.
"Lizzie, are you ill?" he asked gently.
"No, I'm fine". His question bringing her back to earth with a start. "I came to purchase something from you. The...package you offer, a new identity, freedom right? A one way ticket, no questions asked?"
He braced as though he'd been hit. His features heavy with concern, he moved slowly toward her as though she were a long legged deer he hoped not to startle.
But she did startle.
"Get away from me," she hissed.
"Lizzie" he entreated, "sweethea-"
"DON'T sweetheart me! I can pay you, Red. I have money. I've been on the run for weeks and I haven't been lazy. I can give you five million dollars for the complete package. I want it this time tomorrow though. I'll take whatever you can have ready for me then."
She thought she'd done well. No bullshit. She was in control here. If he didn't want his five million, she'd just go somewhere else. It didn't mean anything that she'd come to him first, she told herself. He was the best at this. She had made the smart move.
She looked searchingly at his countenance and stiffened. He was angry, furious even. If she hadn't been familiar with that particular expression, she wouldn't have ever known. But she knew him. Knew how he could place a mask over almost every emotion that burned through his damnable body. Right now, that mask was the thickest she'd ever seen it. His face schooled into a blankness that was on the edge of frightening.
"Weeks. You've been free for weeks," His voice was as flat and blank as his face. "How? I'll address why you didn't reach out to me sooner in a minute but I need to know how? What makes you think they haven't been following you the whole time, that you haven't led them here?"
He winced as soon as the words left his mouth, knowing she'd immediately extrapolate the worst conclusions on his motivations for asking. He was right.
"I have spent four months in hell, Red," her voice was shades of saccharine. "Do you know what hell was? A training facility. Initially, I thought they'd just pump me for information, shoot me in the head once they had what they wanted and be done with it. But I was there for training, as their asset in a nice little farm of very competent assassins. They trained me well Red. A complete education. No one followed me. At least…those that did are dead. So you really don't need to worry yourself." Her voice was sing-song, brittle, unnaturally childish even, as she painted the picture for him.
She stopped; her breathing had gotten shallow, her eyes darting around the room. She had to stop thinking. She rocked her body back and forth slowly, breathing in time to her movement. She had to STOP THINKING.
She hadn't realised she had yelled this aloud until Red was in front of her, holding her as she flailed away from him.
"NO, get away from me," she keened
"Why? Tell me why Lizzie, and I'll step back."
"You don't know…" She trailed off. "You, I…I poisoned a man just by touching him. I could poison you, I shouldn't care if I did,' she moaned. "Red please, just give me the package. You can't possibly have anything more to gain by keeping me here…by giving me back to them. You have Jennifer now. Isn't she safe?"
"I WHAT?!" he thundered.
She flinched away from his anger as though he'd lashed her with a whip, diving for the floor.
"Please, please oh God, I'm sorry, I'll do it, I'll DO IT" she shrieked nonsensically.
Her body curled into itself on the floor, her hands raised in supplication as though the man standing in front of her were driving her, forcing her. To do what, he didn't know.
Red stood in shock, staring down at this mess of a woman, his Lizzie. When he'd first seen her there he'd thought he would have her white hot anger and disdain to contend with, but this…this was…what had happened?
He raised his eyes to Dembe who was standing silently the whole time in the doorway.
Dembe had been looking sorrowfully at Lizzie but now met his employer's eyes across the room.
Red jerked his chin toward the man.
"First aid kit," was all he said as Dembe disappeared into the kitchen in search of it.
Lizzie continued to rock and mumble on the floor until Dembe returned with a glass of water and two pills.
He proffered these towards Red who took them and slowly sank to the floor in front of Lizzie. He sat the glass and pills on a coffee table and stroked her hair softly as her murmuring and sobbing quieted to a lull.
"Lizzie, will you take this? It's just Valium, to calm you. I won't force you, darling, but I wish you would."
She looked up from her position cautiously, her face blotchy and her eyelashes wet with tears. She searched his face for intent and finding nothing alarming, her eyes dropped to the pills. She timidly took them and swallowed with the water.
"Red, I can throw a knife hard enough to kill from 30 paces, I can…move around a room unnoticed and climb a secure multi-story building…that's how I got in here…but I'm not…okay. They did things…they got inside my…head."
She drooped, her whole body admitting defeat. She'd held it together for weeks now. On the run and afraid, she'd talked herself into believing she was hardened and polished but the cracks had shown after just one look at him. Even if he did give her the package she asked for, how was she going to manage? She needed more than just his assistance creating a new identity. She needed him.
He had started stroking her hair again. She hadn't even noticed, lost in dark thoughts. His hand strayed to her cheek, wiping a tear away.
"They haven't fed you enough," his voice was clipped, tight with outrage as his eyes roamed her too-slender form.
"No, I could have used some take out but they didn't allow delivery," she chortled, watching him as he raised an eyebrow at her quip.
"Could you…tell me how this happened Lizzie" He asked hesitantly, uneasy about setting off another reaction.
"I guess. Where do you want me to start? From the day I knew you'd sold me out or the day they came for me?"
"Sold you out?" He echoed in blank amazement. "Lizzie, where did you hear that?" he had a quizzical expression on his face. He passed a hand across his eyes, weary but listening. "I think you should start from the beginning sweetheart".
"The beginning then," she agreed.
