Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist (or the song KRWLNG by Linkin Park) and am not affiliated with them in any way. Strictly for entertainment purposes only.
POTENTIAL SPOILERS ahead so beware!
AN: So this is my first one-shot, and it all began after leaving a detailed comment on The Blacklist Lizzington shippers FB page for how I would want this scene to pan out. I had quite a few people like the comment so I decided to write it! Even before starting on it, I knew it was going to have to be 4,000 plus words in order to get out all of my speculation. My niche has always been romance/hurt/comfort/angst and I do not typically write ACTION, so forgive me if it is dull or not detailed quite enough. This is not usually the way I write, since I usually write the way I TRULY believe what would happen in the show, events that are unprecedented, and how the characters would react. This is inspired by a very spoilery pic (of the upcoming episode) shared online of Red and Lizzie, and is not a prediction. Just me having fun! Now, I know that Red's capture and Lizzie's capture are probably two separate incidents, but I decided to just keep it to Red being captured since it is a one-shot, and I made this scenario fairly different from the upcoming episodes. All mistakes are mine!
The quote, ". "All of us are alone, yet we are not all alone" I'm not sure who said it first, but I took it from a post from my friend hestia-Prytaneum so it is not mine!
Song lyrics and story title courtesy of Linkin Park – KRWLNG
Going to go ahead and give this a rating of M, for violence and possible colorful language!
My Walls Are Closing In
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
"What?! When?" Liz exclaims, shrilly enough for Harold Cooper and the rest of the task force to flinch as she responds to the caller. Slamming her phone down after ending the call, Liz assiduously marches over to Cooper. "That was Samar. Reddington is being held hostage by Luther Braxton at a detention facility in the Bering Sea called the Factory. According to her, it was one of the CIA's former black sites until it was decommissioned shortly after we began pulling troops out of Iraq in 2011. It was being used as a secondary location for high-value prisoners of Guantanamo Bay."
Two days prior, Liz was investigating leads for a different Blacklister case, leaving Red and Dembe no other alternative than to opt for Agent Navabi's assistance to hunt Braxton in Russia, his last reported location. After all, Samar was a talented assassin, as well as a cleverly surreptitious Mossad agent. Her deftness in hand to hand combat alone made her a valuable asset to Red, not to mention her exceptionally competent field training. He also did not mind her beguiling company, since having a fiercely beautiful woman around was not something his virility would object to by no means. By default, having Samar accreted to the task force became an imperative merger between Mossad and the FBI, combining two omnipotent governmental agencies in order to expand their merit and abundance of intelligence radically.
After exhausting most of their leads in Russia, Red received supplementary information that had them boarding a small vessel to venture to the Pribilof Islands, situated near the coast of Alaska. Apparently, Luther had received intel that Red was hot on his trail, and had intended for his posse to bait Red and his cohorts into a trap upon their arrival on the island.
As Samar lay semi-conscious on the cold, pebbly ground, she overheard the transmission from leader of the faction inform Luther via radio that they had Reddington. Luther responded over the static click of airwaves by ordering his men to transport him to the Factory pronto.
"Braxton stormed the facility with his team two days ago, murdering all CIA personnel inside so he could set up shop for whatever the next phase of his plan was. I know about this guy, I read his dossier when I was with Mobile Psych since he was tied to a murder we were investigating at the time. He specializes in international heists that can take him months, years, or even decades to prepare. What he wants with Reddington? I haven't the slightest clue, but as many people as he has pissed off in the last twenty years, it could be for any reason. Money, weapons, a personal vendetta, a simple misunderstanding, or he was fed misinformation about Reddington. Take your pick."
Cooper and Ressler glance at one another inquiringly, the former initially addressing the situation, "So, Keen, even if we find out all we can on this Luther Braxton, what is it that you are hoping to accomplish here? Do you really expect me to sanction a rescue mission on international waters? As many stunts as Reddington has pulled, I'm sure he can worm his way out of this one for once without the assistance of the task force. We only operate on U.S. soil, Keen. Besides, if he was able to kill Garrick and escape, then I have no doubt he will return in a few days."
Squeezing her hips spitefully as she places her palms around them, Liz conspicuously flickers her eyes between Ressler and Cooper with such incredulity, that she virtually forgets to close her chasmal orifice on the front of her face. She discerns in this critical moment, the last sentiment she needs to display in their attendance is palpable apprehension for Red's welfare. "Sir, with all due respect, this task force does not exist on paper, nor does this black site, as you know. And technically, we could argue that we would be operating in U.S. waters since the site is closer to the coast of Alaska than Russia. We could get in and get out. Be on our way back ten hours from now."
Ressler butts in, per his usual form of conversational mannerisms, "And how do we know this is not just some ploy that Reddington put into motion? Getting himself captured purposely to get close to this guy Braxton?"
If it were not for the feasibility of implicit truth behind Ressler's comment, Liz would have scoffed scathingly aloud, being sure to flagrantly roll her eyes at him.
Tilting her head a few degrees, Liz chews on her lower lip fleetingly to prevent any unpleasantly colorful words from flying out of her lips. Glancing down to her black leather ankle boots, she lifts her eyes back up to meet Ressler's and slowly readjusts her posture to proceed. "We don't. That is a chance we have to take, Ressler. If we get there, and Luther is dead, then we won't have to worry about any harm coming to us or to Reddington, seeing that he will most likely be gone by the time we arrive. We cannot just sit around and hope that this was originally Reddington's plan. We have no evidence to support that theory. And if it's true? Then he won't need us for anything except a ride back to the states." Ressler smirks contemptuously, letting out a trivially incredulous respire.
Even the concept of extricating Reddington is preposterous to him, no matter how nefarious Luther's machinations seem, since he knows the man can fair well enough on his own. If he had a definitive say in the matter, he would leave Reddington there to rot, be tortured, and eventually killed. Although, Reddington prevented him from bleeding out and meeting his Maker a little more than a year ago, he still views him as an insufferable criminal mastermind who caused the demise of he and Audrey's relationship whilst in pursuit of Reddington for five years. Under normal circumstances, any man would be grateful to the person who for saved his life and gave him a second chance with the woman he loved. Hell, it could create a bond of companionship if the correct variables and conditions were in their favor. Unfortunately, it mattered not to Ressler that Reddington had saved his life because in his mind, Raymond Reddington is and always will be a traitor to his country.
"And what happens if we lay siege to the facility, and are lead right into an ambush, Liz?"
Liz creases her brows and constricts her eyelids at him, narrowing her gaze enough to make it clear that she is becoming more and more agitated with his line of questioning with each spoken word that is flowing from the hole in his face and seeping into her ears.
"Sir, Reddington is the only hope we have at apprehending some of the most elusive and appalling criminals on the planet. You know that. You have witnessed first-hand what he has been able to accomplish since this task force's commencement. As far as his motives for the Blacklist are concerned? Of course, it is personal to him, and runs deeper than any of us can make sense of at this time. But Sir, we need him. And he is no good to us missing or dead."
What Liz really means to say is, she needs him. Not only for answers to her past that remain inscrutable, but also, for herself.. Red is the sole person in her life whom she trusts implicitly. Her one-true unwavering shelter from the storm. The only person who actually knows her, and knows her heart. She has consciously come to the realization that in the core of her being, an enigmatic evolution has occurred, traipsing sensations between them that she has yet to identity. An electrical current ripples throughout her restless body every painstaking moment she is in Red's presence. It is a stirring of animalistic desire and attentiveness she cannot touch on, pinpoint, nor escape.
The answers she has sought have become inferior during her journey in relation to the ties that bind her with the Concierge of Crime, even though the answers she already possesses remain open to interpretation and only bring about more inquisitions. Abandoning her career or forcing Red to depart has never been the answer nor the alternative to Red exposing Liz to the nastiest sort of parasitic repulsions witnessed in human existence, since carrying on without him would be profoundly intolerable.
Never again would she have the pleasure of hearing the enthralling tenor of his voice as it rattles her bones. Never again would she have the privilege of listening intently to one of his fabulous narratives of his travels. She has never experienced such raw and intrinsic emotions for another human being. Not Sam. Not Frank. Not Tom. Not a single person has been able to conjure such a whirlwind of multifaceted feelings that tussle every synapsis in her mind and invade all of the nerve-endings contained in her physical form. Her love for him bewilders her already ambiguous emotions at times, ping-ponging from romantic, to unconditional, to platonic, and back again. Deep down, she knows her heart's true intention. She is just unaware of Red's, and dreadfully longs to hear him express to her how subaqueous his feelings are for her. By design, she is meant to be with Raymond Reddington, but she often asks herself, To what end? She is careful to keep her heart bound in a steel cage lest it be crushed to dust following a rejection of the one and only man she will ever love unconditionally.
Whipping her head around to face Harold Cooper, Liz continues to plead with him, pointing to each one of the task force members as she explains her reasoning.
"Lest we forget that he has saved your life, Ressler's, Samar's, and my life before? Hell, he has saved mine numerous times. Now in the grand scheme of things, I know that I am a part of his long-term goals, seeing that he has access to the FBI's resources through me. Yes, I realize that he is using me, but, I'm sorry. I cannot just sit here to let him rot in some detention facility –turned-torture-chamber with this animal doing God knows what to him."
"He also nearly cost me my life, Agent Keen. And Agent Ressler's and Aram's as well, have you forgotten that?"
It is unlike Liz to challenge Cooper's authority, but today she is willing to do everything humanly possible to get Red back safe and sound.
"Sir, look, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to undermine your authority. He is an asset, and we need him, please. Can we put together an incursion team, and an extraction plan? The flight is going to take approximately seven to eight hours if we take the fastest jet available, and we will be damn lucky if he is still in one piece upon our arrival."
Huffing an agitated sigh, Cooper nods his head in conformity. Butting heads with Cooper over Reddington has become routinely common in these past few months for Liz. The group diverge and head to their separate work stations, formulating a plan to release Red as swiftly and securely as possible.
As Liz, Ressler, and the tactical unit all scuttle onto the aircraft, the only thoughts buzzing around Liz's brain are those of frenzied paranoia, What if this is all a trap? What if Ressler is right? The capture could possibly be Red's doing, or Luther could be using Red as a calling card to ensnare the task force, or Lizzie more specifically. What if Luther Braxton was after her instead, and capturing Red was the sure-fire way to get Lizzie to come to him? I've been wrong so many times before, she thinks. What if she's right, and things go terribly wrong? There is but only one way to find out.
Seven hours later . . .
Exiting the massive Boeing jet, the team meets the Anchorage field office to escort them to their speedboat located at the nearest port. Hopping aboard, Liz's limbs quake in anticipation. Just be fluid, know your target, know your mission: get Red out, she repeats in her head as she reasserts her mental focus. Her insides shake violently, and she prays that they will not arrive too late. Affixing herself to the fraught circumstances that have her frantically checking and rechecking her service weapon and tactical shotgun, she constricts her eyelids as the island comes into view, focusing her acute gaze upon the gargantuan facility. She stills her ministrations for a moment, realizing she still has to apply her suppressors to her weapons.
Lizzie and Ressler in charge of leading the tact team inside. Lizzie has become exceedingly troubled, anxiously pining that they will reach Red in time, knowing she is willing to kill anyone who is not FBI who gets in her way or in her wake.
She wants to save the man whom has steadily evolved into the only substantial proof that love remains in her heart, presenting to her that it has not completely vanished from her soul. He stampeded into her life like an uninvited guest who refused to abscond, but then, once they resigned to hanging around a while, you actually began enjoying their company. Loneliness is more than a feeling, but rather a proverbial world that Lizzie has never particularly been good at existing. Ever since Sam took her in, she had never been alone for more than a week or so, regardless of who encircled her. Family, friends, boyfriends. There has always been someone there with her during her expedition in life.
After her façade of a husband was exposed and shattered the past two years of her life into shards of nothingness, something inside her cracked. Coming home to a desolate, destroyed home following Red's admission of Sam's mercy killing, Lizzie had never felt the twinge of isolation as she did that day. The veil of darkness settled over her psyche, and she feared it would forever remain there. "All of us are alone, yet we are not all alone", she thinks. Her reasoning for her ruminations at this time were simple: she does not want to be alone ever again. Red has been the only one to suppress that seclusion, making it fade away whilst in his company until it became a distant memory. Recalling how he would eye her adoringly and smile at her with such affection, Lizzie concludes at this moment that she cannot live without this man. She loves him more than she has ever loved another human being, and losing him would be the equivalent to someone removing her very soul, her physical body being the only remnants of what was once a caring, determined, driven, and ferocious woman.
"ETA four minutes! We go in hard but as quiet as possible! We cannot allow them to have the upper hand!", the tact team leader exclaims over the roaring engines of the speed boat. As they make landfall, the team rush up the beach, keeping a steady pace up the dirt path leading to the rear of the facility. The four guards scattered on the exterior of the detention center meet their demise by three snipers stationed directly northeast of their location, the fifth and sixth having their necks promptly snapped by two tact team members. The site has been out of commission for at least four years, the CIA recently using it for confidential storage of damming information credible to their missions over the last thirty years.
Upon reaching a solid, heavy door, Lizzie takes the master key from one of the subdued guards to gain entry. The team sneaks in, shuffling their way through the maze of hallways until they finally reach the entrance to the holding cells. Lizzie and Ressler glimpse at one another, both nodding in reticence to proceed.
Red had already begun dislodging the restraints attached to his wrists and ankles as Luther Braxton finally walked into the dank concrete cell. Circling him a few times, Luther finally begins to speak, "You know, I have looked for you for, well, years, Red. I never knew that you would actually come looking for me instead. That was mistake number one." Luther drives a hard left enter Red's abdomen, forcing him to gasp reluctantly for air. Then another. And another. Luther continues his assault on Red's ribcage and abdomen in hopes that he has broken a few ribs and punctured a lung.
After having his fun with Red's torso, he redirects his focus on his face, pummeling his cheeks, nose, mouth, and the side of his cranium. Red heaves his head eye-level with Luther, shooting him an encouraging grin. Although he is in a fairly significant amount of pain, his unwavering appearance holds fast. Luther laughs aloud, taunting him every chance that arises. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I would say that you were slipping in your old age, Reddington." At that, Red spits out the crimson liquid filling his mouth onto the ground next to his captor's steel-toed boots, the copper tinge becoming a nuisance for his taste buds.
Luther stares down at his fists, admonishing the raw cuts on his knuckles and the blood covering them that perceptibly belong to Red. Luther draws out his .40 caliber handgun, sticking it in Red's gut as he verbalizes his warning, "Make a move, and I will blow your brains out." Two other men enter the room, pointing their weapons in Red's direction. A third man enters, his face covered with a black ski mask and admonishing full riot gear. Walking subtly to Red, the man plucks a needle into Red's neck. Ah, hell. Not again, Red thinks to himself gallingly. "Don't worry, this is only a sedative to keep you from trying to escape or fight back. It won't dull the pain, however. I just don't want to keep you chained up. After all, I want you to have the perfect view of your Lizzie." All three men depart the room, leaving just the two of them alone once again. Luther looks into Red's weary eyes and smiles gleefully as he sees the effects take over Red's facial features. Luther reaches up to unlock Red's wrists, and then his ankles. "Sit you ass down, Red. We are going to be here awhile." Red collapses to the floor, seemingly immobile.
Beating Red for thirty minutes was Luther's only motive for having Red restrained. "I'm sure Agent Keen will be here soon enough, then, we can get started. Now, they may kill most of my men when they breach the facility, but once they get to this room, well. They won't have a choice but to stand down, temporarily at least", Luther says with an evil sneer. Red's eyes widen as he scoots his body limply against the wall, gulping down the mounting trepidation creeping into his dry throat. Luther's men enter once more as they wheel in some oddly suspicious monitors and machines that favor an EKG and defribulator, along with a chair with built-in restraints. Red glares at the devices and the chair inquiringly, twisting his head back around to speak to Luther.
"Wh—what do you want with her Luther? Sh—she is useless to you."
"Actually, no, she's just as valuable to me as she is to you, Red. Except, I don't have any reservations about harming her, as you do. Did you think you and the Alliance were the only ones who knew about the Fulcrum?"
Red's features slide back into that of his detached and stoic disguise. He huffs an unamused laugh, realizing Luther knows about not only his connection to Lizzie, but that he is an adjunct informant as well. Shaking his head incredulously, he sniffs a bit at the sticky moisture running out of his nose. Red simply nods. "What? Nothing to say? Really?! HA! I can't believe it! I have actually been able to surprise the Concierge of Crime! Wow!"
Slapping his knees with both palms, Luther stands from the chair, grinning unashamedly down at Red as he calmly pokes the barrel of the gun against his forehead. "Shut the door, lock us inside and give me the key. No one comes in", Luther commands to his men.
"I want you to bear witness to what I am going to do to your precious Lizzie. Oh and by the way, if you try anything, and I mean anything—", Luther points to the dial on the wall, Red's consternations run wild throughout his mind, tapping into since-lost ruminations of losing someone he loves more than he can fathom. It is C-4 that is visibly encased into the wall behind him where a block of the wall was removed , the dial on the outside being the timer, with a few buttons sticking out of each side of the room. "I am going to get the information I need, Red, or we all die in this room, together." Rage ignites a flame inside of Red's center, expanding outward to each of his limbs. He clenches his trembling fists, closing his eyes as his thoughts drift to Lizzie. Lizzie please don't come here, praying his thoughts will traverse across the universe and reach her ears.
At that moment, Luther hears his men outside the door crumple to the floor. His maw stretching into a victorious smile, Luther states to a furious Red, "They're here."
"If you try to open this door, it will automatically trigger an explosive device!" Luther shouts from the confines of the damp enclosure, standing a few feet from the door. "Lizzie, do not try to come in here! He is going to kill you if you do!" Furious at his outburst, Luther stamps over to Red, his size thirteen boot crashing into the side of his face with a sickening thud. "Red! I'm here! I'm not going anywhere! We are going to get you out, okay?!"
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Agent Keen! Now, put down you weapons. The only way I'm letting Reddington out of this room, is if you come in Liz, alone and unarmed! And if you attempt to bum-rush the door, I will set off the bomb. Clear?!" Luther yells through the door, shooting Red a cautious look to shut his mouth. "Lizzie, don't do it!" Blood pouring from every orifice of his face, Red's pleas exude a desperation that Lizzie has never quite heard come from him.
"If you don't shut your mouth Reddington, I am going to set it off anyway and blow us all to kingdom come!"
"Red? I'm coming in, alright?" Handing her weapons over to Ressler, Lizzie steadies her nerves, breathing in and out deeply to calm her racing heart and the overwhelming urge to vomit.
"You can't do this, Liz. I won't let you", Ressler demands, grabbing Lizzie by the arm, insisting she not submit to Braxton's demands.
"What do you want me to do, Ressler? Let him die? I don't think so."
"If you go in there, you all could die anyway!"
Snatching her arm from Ressler's grip, she removes her belt containing tear gas and flash grenade canisters, handing it to the tact team leader. She eyes Ressler cagily, "I will be fine, Ress. Just . . . trust me, alright? Red has gotten us out of far worse." Ressler fumes wordlessly, placing his hands on his hips in frustration as he lowers his head.
"Open the door, Braxton! I'm coming in unarmed!" Jabbing her index finger in the direction of the team, she issues one last command before entering, "Back away, all of you."
Before Luther is able to step any closer to the door, he sees Red dashing toward him out of his peripheral vision. Red crashes into him, hammering him into the wall as he knocks the gun from Luther's grasp, stunning him enough to knock him to the floor. Luther Braxton is a mountain of a man, standing at six foot-two, weighing in at two-hundred and forty pounds, so getting him to the ground was no easy feat. Straddling Luther, Red attempts to get in behind his head in order to snap his neck. Luther comes to, using his enormous ogre-like fists to knock Red off him.
Luther climbs on top of Red, striking him in the face with all his might. His face bloodied nearly beyond recognition, Red reaches up with both hands, clamping them like vice grips around his neck. Red puts enough space in between their torsos that Luther cannot reach Red's neck, swinging at Red frantically and pounding his face multiple times, quite literally fighting for his life. Luther's veins in his neck and head bulge out so prominently that his head looks as if it might be the only thing to detonate. Realizing he is on the verge of losing consciousness, Luther erratically lifts his eyes to the button on the wall above Red's head, fervidly straining to reach out for it. Red sees what he is attempting to accomplish, raising his leg to knee him in the groin.
It is too late. As Luther hits the button, Red grabs the front of his shirt, bringing the large man down on top of him to shield him from the blast.
As Lizzie hears the two scuffling, she tells the team to be at the ready if the door opens. They back away a few yards as they hear loud banging coming from interior of the room. At this moment, Lizzie is confident that Red will come out victorious. All at once, the team hears an infernally loud beeping.
"Move!" Lizzie shouts, realizing the bomb is ready to detonate. The team is only able to run past three cells before the explosion rocks the area, throwing Lizzie and Ressler into the air. The impact against one of the cells has Lizzie disoriented and bleeding from the back of her head, a gash becoming protuberant through her auburn hair. She peers up to see Ressler rising from his position on the floor next to her. Lizzie cranes her neck as she squints adamantly through the smoke behind her, getting to her feet as her shoes scuff and drag slightly. The only thing she can hear is the ringing in her ears from the blast.
If she is in any pain from injuries, the adrenaline has done well to suppress any of it from coursing through her body. She takes off in a full sprint toward the demolished cell, tears gushing out of her ducts at the mere sight of destruction before her. Prior to getting to the leveled room, Lizzie begins screaming at the top of her lungs, "Red?! Red! God, please, no! Red?!" Her hands quaking violently, Lizzie feels as if she might be sick. She has never felt such a culmination of dread and fear rattle around in her already-fragile mind. She reaches the debris of what was once the cell that held Raymond Reddington, hysterically lifting pieces of concrete and wood to see if he may be buried beneath it. Her erratic breathing and racing pulse simultaneously merge, making it apparent that she is in the beginning stages of a panic attack.
"Red?! Talk to me! Where are you!" No sooner than the words leave her mouth, she spots him lying under a thin sheet of concrete, light enough for her to use the adrenaline for strength in removing the sheet from his body. As she lifts it off him, she sees his face. He is critically injured, if not fatally. The moisture treading down her face refuses to cease. Sobs escape her throat at the sight of Red lying motionless on the floor.
Moving quickly, she kneels down, pressing her ear to his mouth. He's not breathing, and he has no pulse. God, please, don't do this to me. Don't take him from me. He is the only man I have ever loved, and he cannot die without knowing how I feel! Please don't!
Lizzie begins resuscitating Red, pressing her lips to his to blow warm air into his mouth, pressing down firmly on his chest. "Come on, Red! Don't do this to me! Don't leave me like this! You can't leave me! Do you hear me dammit?" Continuing her ministrations frenetically for several more minutes, Lizzie's throat threatens to let more sobs escape, but she withholds them. She has to be strong for him now. After pressing on his chest and blowing into his mouth once more, Lizzie begins to panic as her hands shake uncontrollably. "Red, you bastard, you can't leave me! I love you! Do you hear me?! I love you!"
Inhaling a sharp long-awaited breath, Red's eyes flutter open, coughing a bit as he searches Lizzie's weary face endlessly. Lizzie smiles so widely that pain shoots into her reddened cheeks, joyously laughing in victory that he is alive. "I heard you, Lizzie. And . . . I love you. So much." Red states soothingly, reaching his hand up to place it on the side of her face. Lizzie leans down, palming his head with both of her shaky hands and reclines down to him to place a stunning kiss across his lips, lingering there for as long as she can. Coming up for air, she peers at him with such affection that it nearly breaks his heart. "I swear to Christ, if you ever do that to me again, I will kill you myself!" Red admonishes a charming grin, stroking the side of her face adoringly and wiping the rivulets of tears still falling down her cheeks, "That would be fine by me, Lizzie. At least you would have another excuse to put your lips to mine."
P.S. I am so embarrassed *hides face* lol! Please tell me how terrible it was! I think I should just stick to angst lovey dovey stories…yikes. And I have no idea why I made Cooper so reluctant to go after Red lol! It just came out that way I guess because there have been similar situations in the show. Anyway, thanks for reading!