A/N: So this is the beginning of my new fic. It's a tad bit darker than my previous works. This whole thing is going to be rated M probably for torture. Eventual Lizzington, as always.

Chapter 1

Elizabeth Keen has been missing for four days. The FBI has no leads. They also have yet to tell Raymond 'Red' Reddington.

At first, it was because they genuinely believed him to be behind her disappearance.

That maybe he swept her away to keep her safe from the Alliance that was after Reddington as well.

After having Red under constant surveillance while he was away on business in Madrid, they conclude that he had nothing to do with it.

No one wants to tell Red what's going on, but as soon as he exited the elevator at the Post Office on the fourth day of Liz's disappearance, they know they can no longer avoid the shit-storm that's about to rain down on them.

Looking tan and dapper as usual, Red strolls through the post office as if he owns the place.

The entire team is gathered in the war room, looking to Assistant Director Cooper for guidance, to deliver the news that might cost them all their lives.

"Hello Aram, that tie is splendid. Is that a Tom Ford? It looks like a time Ford…Samar, my desert rose, you really should wear your hair like that more often...Donald, I trust that you have yet to slip on any banana peels today? However, the day is still young, give it..." Red's monologue died off as if just noticing there was a problem.

Samar stood as if she were bracing herself for a physical blow. Aram couldn't keep eye-contact and had tears in his eyes.

Ressler kept direct eye-contact, trying to spark a confrontation. Spoiling for a fight to ease his guilt over his missing partner.

Looking from one to the other, it clicked on just who hadn't joined their little party.

His voice was the most threatening rasp any of them had ever heard. "What have you done? Where is she?"

Cooper walked forward, taking the lead on explaining the situation, much to everyone's relief.

"Agent Keen has gone missing. We thought you might have information on her whereabouts."

Dembe put his arm on Red's shoulder as he reached inside of his jacket as if her were going to pull a gun on them. A caution.

Red paused, twisted his tongue in his mouth for a moment before speaking "I was away on business. What makes you think that I am the party responsible for her misplacement?"

Aram finally spoke up "You were her last phone call. No other activity was logged after that."

"So instead of asking me, you let her go unfound for four days?! How and the hell can you claim that your agency has even a molecule of 'intelligence' at this point. She could be dead by now, and I swear to you if that is the case, there is no corner of the earth that you will be able to hide to keep me from exacting vengeance upon you… I will contact you tomorrow."

With that, he walked out of the building with measured steps, keeping a calm façade when all he really wanted to do was shoot every single incompetent being in sight.

The rage of Raymond Reddington was a living, breathing being, palpable in the confines of the vehicle.

Dembe was already on the phone, getting their forensic tech team on her cell and bank records.

He had a moment before Dembe finished so he remembered his last phone call to Lizzie.

She told him that he didn't need to be flying to Madrid so soon after being shot in the chest. Her worry was quite endearing, but his business was unavoidable.

So he offered to let her come along and play nursemaid, but only if she wore the dress of his choosing.

Only half kidding, he expected her to be outraged at his perverse statement.

Instead, she replied 'If I thought it would keep you safe and in one spot, I would be your naked nursemaid, but we both know that you are too stubborn to listen to anyone."

It was in that moment, that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Elizabeth Keen cared about him far more than he realized.

He thought she just cared for him as a friend or mentor. Her statement, out loud, of a more sexual nature was the best thing he had heard in decades.

They fought, he left anyways, but promised to come back home to her safe and sound. She then whispered 'I hope so Red, you're not the only one connected to this, to us' and hung up before he could begin to reply.

He was buoyed by the fact that their relationship was changing. Evolving into what he had so hoped for from the moment she first walked down the stairs of the cat walk at the Post Office.

He was enraged, grieving from his knowledge of the statistics that would repeat what he already knew: The chances of Lizzie being alive are slim to none at this point.

Rubbing a hand over his head and neck, he waited for Dembe to finish his call.

Across town, in a small house for removed from any neighbors. A man was digging a hole in a cellar.

He knew logically, how deep a grave needed to be. It was hard to concentrate. He had been waiting years for his revenge.

He delighted in telling his captive everything he was going to do to her. He even apologized for what he had already been done.

He couldn't help it. It needed to be done. She was a very bad girl and now that he had the means to do so, he was going to make her pay, for however long her miserable life lasted.

He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, he really wasn't used to this hard of labor.

Across the room, tied to a couple of boards, nailed in the shape of a cross, she called out to him. Her voice was nothing but a broken whisper of its former integrity. He loved that he had broken her, as she had broken him.

"Nick... Ple..ase"

Tbc…

Let me know what you think!