Summary: Alternate scene, Anslo Garrick - Conclusion: Liz and Mr. Kaplan choose the church.

Disclaimer: The Blacklist does not belong to me! I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

A/N: The image of Liz discovering Red was something I had in my head over New Year's in New York. One-shot for now!

I: Unseen Hurt

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

Liz watched from across the street as a group of men—Red's men?—set up near the perimeter. As if reading her thoughts, the woman she'd known all of two hours addressed her.

"Stay in the car," said Mr. Kaplan, her voice low and even. "My orders are to keep you safe." Dembe suddenly joined them, jumping in behind Liz.

Inside, one of Garrick's mercenaries alerted to him the approaching hostiles. "We've got company."

Anslo nodded, hearing it for himself.

"What about him?"

Looking at Red, Anslo sniffed. Disappointed didn't begin to cover it, but that was that. Fitch was just going to have to make some new arrangements. "Leave him," he said.

The man who had been bracing the pulley system released his hold, forcing Red to stand on his own as he did upon arriving. The measure of just how much he'd come to rely on this additional support hit Red in an instant as his legs buckled under him. He would have been fine with the prospect of kneeling, but the chain was not long enough, and he painfully pulled himself back to a standing position.

Shouldering his weapon, Anslo walked past and gave Red a sad, lopsided smile. He saluted with two fingers. "Till we meet again, Red."

Liz's eyes locked on Dembe in the rearview. Mr. Kaplan was just getting word that Garrick was nowhere in sight.

"No, we haven't seen him come out on this side," she confirmed, peering out the window. "Let me know when—"

Abruptly, Liz pulled on her door handle and hopped out of the car, making for the entrance that Red's team had cleared.

Mr. Kaplan watched her in disbelief before turning around to meet Dembe's similarly startled face. "Christ," she muttered.

The interior of the old nave was starkly lit. As Liz's eyes adjusted, she saw a few of Red's men occupying the far end, their stances vigilant against any remaining combatants. One of them moved to consult with another, and the overhead light caught something black and white in their midst. Something suspended from a chain.

"Oh, my God," whispered Liz. She ran the rest of the way to where Red was standing—barely, from the looks of it, his arms extended over his head and held fast by cuffs that bound his wrists together. The guard nearest her nodded.

"You're good. We got you covered."

Breathlessly, Liz went up to him. His eyes were shut, the left side of his face streaked with blood. She instinctively reached for him, the realization of never having done so occurring to her as she tentatively cupped his cheek. "Red? Hey. Hey."

Red's mouth opened slightly but no words came, and it was then that Liz noticed how badly he was shaking. She moved her hand from his cheek to his forehead, feeling the alarming heat there. "God, he's burning up."

"Yes," said Mr. Kaplan, who had arrived at her side with Dembe and was scrutinizing Reddington for herself. "They must have given him something."

Liz turned back to catch Red wincing, as though she were somehow causing him pain. She removed her hand, and his eyes proceeded to open a crack. Any relief she expected to gain from Red looking back at her, however, was quickly dispelled at the sight of his groggy, bloodshot stare.

Unbeknownst to Liz, Red was rather heartened by his view: the incredibly blue eyes, the smudged makeup from one hellacious day that ringed them . . . The surprisingly naked concern they held for him, though—something he hadn't seen directed his way in he cared not to think how long—that was the icing on the cake. His lashes fluttered closed again.

"Red." The cuffs restraining him were too high for her to adequately reach, and Liz turned for Dembe. "We need to get him down," she blurted, needlessly.

Dembe moved behind Red and faced her. "Hold him," he instructed, reaching for the hook.

Liz obliged, hugging Red around his torso and feeling the weight of him sag into her as Dembe unlatched him. Red grunted at the newfound release, the chain above him swinging idly to and fro like a giant, ghastly pendulum.

"Let's get him on the floor," said Liz, but Red made awkwardly for the chair Anslo had used instead, and they helped him sit. At once his body pitched forward in an apparent attempt to relieve some unseen hurt. Liz bit her lip as she looked down at him.

"I'll get medics here," Mr. Kaplan said into her ear, retrieving a phone from her coat as she brushed by. The reminder prompted Liz to reach for her own phone.

"Yes," she verified her identity, after giving her badge number to Headquarters. "Put me through to Assistant Director Cooper, please?" She began to pace the floor, stopping when her boss's voice came on the line.

"Keen."

"Sir. I found Reddington."

There was a pause on the other end. "Alive?"

"Yeah," she said, glancing over at his hunched figure.

"Where are you?"

"We're at 527 Hollins Ferry Road, Baltimore. The site is secured, but Garrick's gone."

"'We'?" Harold's voice was clipped. "Tell me, Agent Keen, which part of 'stand down' was unclear to you?"

She hesitated. "This wasn't—"

"Never mind. We'll deal with that later. How is he?"

Liz turned from Red, moving slowly in the opposite direction. "They did a number on him, but EMTs are on the way. What's going on there? Should I bring him back to the Post Office?"

"Just sit tight for a minute. I'll contact you shortly."

Liz hung up with Cooper and walked back to Red and Dembe, who was standing protectively over him. She nodded at him, then knelt in front of Red. His head was still bowed, and she regarded the fuzz of his hair.

"Hey. We've got medics on the way. Real ones this time," she added gently, in the hope of some reaction. Red raised his head, but the battered, twitching features that met her only served to underscore the chain of events that had led them to this spot, and Liz all but flinched under a fresh and dizzying wave of guilt. Whatever Red had endured here, it was all because of her.

"I'm sorry I lost you," she breathed, meaning it.

Red blinked lethargically as he focused on her, hoping he wasn't shivering as much as it felt like he was. "'s'all right."

A rueful smile crossed Liz's face. "Slipped on a banana peel," she said, shrugging.

For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, Red smiled back. His eyes flickered over the bloody scratches that Liz bore herself: abrasions she must have picked up right after she'd disappeared from view. "Glad you're OK, Lizzy."

"Yeah," she said, exhaling shortly. "Now we're just going to make sure you are."

A blasé expression lifted Red's eyebrows in a familiar, comforting way. "I've had worse."

Liz glanced at Dembe, who looked encouraged as well.

"How's Ressler," asked Red, "since I can see you want to keep me talking here."

"In surgery," she replied, nodding. "They save that leg, it's thanks to you."

"Mmm." Red suddenly motioned towards Mr. Kaplan with his chin. "Mr. Kaplan's fun, isn't she?"

Liz followed Red's gaze. "She is very helpful to have around."

"That she is."

Liz looked up at Dembe again before returning her attention to Red. "I'm sorry about Luli," she said quietly.

Red shuddered, conveniently avoiding her eyes. "Me too," he acknowledged, his voice like gravel.

Having taken a long and thoroughly numbing look at the box and its surface sprayed with blood when she was dropped back at the Post Office, Liz could only imagine what the view must have been from the inside.

"Hey—" she said, brushing his arm, "we're going to find him."

He let out a soft, mirthless chuckle. "Oh, something tells me I'm going to first."

Liz frowned but didn't have time to ask what he meant, as Cooper called her back then with orders on where to report with Reddington after he was treated for his injuries. All immediate threats neutralized, she could feel the adrenaline of the last few hours start to ebb, even as the gravity of the day's events began to settle over her like some invisible, pernicious burden. The wail of an ambulance outside signaled the arrival of the EMTs, and she readied herself to meet them.

"Lizzy."

She turned at the sound of his voice.

"I'm glad I scared you," said Red, the weary smile on his bloodied face lending a further irony to his words. "I was beginning to wonder, you know."

END 1/?

There's a little black spot on the sun today
It's the same old thing as yesterday
There's a black hat caught in a high treetop
There's a flagpole rag and the wind won't stop

. . .