A huge thank you to Figure of Dismay for her Beta work and being a wonderful Muse.
Having been cleared of all charges except the shooting of Tom Connolly almost a month ago, Red had been giving her an even larger glimpse into his world; albeit from the sidelines. He was still, in her opinion, overly concerned with her safety. Apparently she was going to have to prove to him that she could hold her own. Waiting for the right opportunity to jump in against his orders was maddening, but risking everyone else's lives just to prove she could handle herself would be counterproductive. Red would likely put her on an even shorter leash and having seen his anger pointed in other directions, she wanted to make sure she was not on the receiving end.
The meeting with the latest contact was taking place on the banks of the Hudson river in the dead of night. She had convinced Red to let her come with him. After a lengthy argument, he finally agreed as long as she did not involve the scooby gang; his acerbic endearment for the task force. This was just a preliminary meeting after all, to make sure his information was in order before handing the file over to them.
She was about 150 yards from the tête-à-tête. Night vision binoculars were her only link to her favorite criminal and his loyal bodyguard. Everything was going fine, until it wasn't. Red's contact suddenly became agitated, yelling and waving his hands around. Red kept his hands in his pockets and a smug smile on his face; ever the confident bastard. After a few more words were exchanged, Red turned and he and Dembe started to walk back toward her position.
She saw the man bend down and unearth something in the dirt, then the shine of the gun as the weapon was lifted and pointed in Red's direction. She shouted frantically to Red and gestured to look behind him. He looked up sharply, irritation that she had given her position away clear on his face. She ran towards him, drawing her gun and helplessly watched the bullet rip through Red's chest as he turned to see why she had drawn her weapon, Dembe fired back and killed the man before he could shoot again.
Lizzie fell to her knees as soon as she reached them, but it was too late, he had no pulse. She threw her arms around him while she sobbed, wishing she could feel his comforting presence just one more time. She had been holding him at arm's length not wanting to examine her growing feelings for him in too much depth. To his credit, he was trying to let her in, but she hadn't been sure she wanted in; now time had run out. Regret for not trusting him more and telling him how she felt weighed heavily on her chest. Dembe lifted her up and tried to steer her towards the waiting car, she struggled with him for a couple of minutes before breaking out of his grasp to stay with Red, only he wasn't there. She turned to Dembe with a questioning frown wondering if she was losing her mind.
He shrugged and walked in the direction of the car, saying over his shoulder, "My instructions are to take you home."
She stood frozen in place. What in the world was Dembe talking about? Why was he not freaking out over the fact that Red was dead and that his body just disappeared? Something was going on and this time she was getting answers, she had let Red and his team distract her and outright refuse to answer her questions on too many occasions. It stopped now.
She took off after Dembe firing questions at his back until they reached the car. "Dembe, we are not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."
He opened the car door and waited patiently for her to climb in. "All will be well, but you need to come with me."
She stared him down for nearly two full minutes before she admitted defeat and slid into the back seat.
When they arrived at her apartment, Dembe walked her to her door. When they reached her apartment she whirled around to confront him again.
"What am I supposed to tell Cooper?" There was nothing she could offer the task force without Reddington, and with her recent stint on the most wanted list, there would be very few desirable job prospects available to her.
Dembe pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door before gently grasping her elbow and moving her inside.
"Elizabeth, you must tell no one what happened tonight. I will contact you in a few days." He closed the door and quickly walked away before she could recover and ask more questions.
Numbly she stood facing the door, a mantra of 'this isn't real' kept up a beat inside her head. It was a least five minutes before she could will herself to turn. She shed her coat and let it fall to the floor as she made her way to the couch Red had so thoughtfully bought for her. She cringed as she fell down upon it, remembering how ungrateful she was the day he surprised her with it. She had wanted space and he seemed to always be underfoot; like a cat when it wants attention. If time could be reversed she would sit next to him and ask what was really bothering him; she could see now that something had been. She flopped onto her back and stretched her legs out across the cushions. She covered her face with the small throw pillow hoping he had been the one to pick it out and maybe hold it against his chest, would it smell like him? No such luck. She wondered if Dembe would find it creepy if she requested one of his shirts that had yet to be laundered... like she would even have the courage to ask. She tossed and turned, dozing sporadically but never really sleeping.
The next morning her bladder made itself know and she reluctantly got up. Her neck and back were stiff and sore, she could hear Red's voice softly chiding her, "I told you it pulls out Lizzie." She stumbled and almost fell flat on her face as the thought struck her that she would never hear his voice again. Would she eventually forget how it sounded? She fought the tears while she relieved herself and then started the shower. She hoped that the warm water would soothe her but the steam that engulfed her created a perfect place for the storm of emotions to be let loose. She cried in great heaving sobs for a long while until the water started to cool. She quickly washed and threw on a t-shirt and yoga pants and made her way back to the couch and sank into the cushions while her grief settled over her like a rainy day, she had no desire to eat or go anywhere. Red was a force of nature and she felt like her life was drained of colors and smells now that he was no longer in it.
When her cell phone chirped to life that evening she jumped up hoping it was Dembe; she needed to feel close to Red and maybe Dembe would take her to his last safe house. She tried to hide her disappointment when she answered Resslers call. "Hey Res, what's up?"
"When we talked the other day you said Reddington was working on something so I figured you would have something for us by now."
She looked up to keep the tears at bay and took a deep cleansing breath so she would sound as close to normal as possible. "He hasn't gotten in contact with me yet, I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything."
"Yeah, well tell Mr. High and Mighty he can rest when he's dead. We need a name soon. Hell, you know him, he is probably somewhere with a gorgeous view, enjoying an expensive cigar and sipping an even more expensive scotch."
She choked on the lump that formed in her throat, part rage for Resslers unfeeling comment and part grief. She swallowed it down and took another cleansing breath. It wasn't Resslers fault; he had no idea what had happened. "I'll let him know you're waiting." She hung up before he could make any disparaging remarks about Red.
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Lizzie was laying on the living room floor staring at the ceiling in her new apartment. Having made the decision to try to rejoin the land of the living, she was supposed to be choosing a paint color; but her thoughts kept drifting back to Red. He had been gone three days, he was such a huge part of her life that she had no idea how she could go on without him.
She finally let the tears go that had been threatening fall all morning as she remembered the little things he would bring her when he came back from a business trip. A shot glass from Las Vegas, a scarf from Turkey, she once woke to find Red sitting in her kitchen reading the paper while a pastry chef he had brought back with him from France made fresh croissants.
She practically jumped out of her skin when the chirping of her cell phone broke through the silence in the room. By the time she heaved herself off the floor and grabbed her phone it had stopped ringing. The number was blocked, it had to be Dembe. Before she could wonder if he would call back her cell jumped back to life, she answered before the first chirp had died out. "Hello?"
"Elizabeth, I will be there in 30 minutes to pick you up." Dembe hung up before she could question him further.
On the one hand it was good that Dembe had finally contacted her because Cooper and Ressler had been on her about Red's whereabouts and there was nothing she could tell them. On the other hand she was a bundle of nerves. Could Dembe be taking her to to a reading of Red's will? She wasn't sure she could handle it, but was curious to find out what he had left her; because of course he had, that was Red. It was real, there would be no way to wake from this nightmare. With a heavy heart she made her way into the bedroom to get ready.