Title: Warrior/Worrier

Author: thousand-miles

Rating: T (if it turns to M I will give you fair warning)

Spoilers: I started this one in S1 so S1 for sure and a bit of S2 also I think.

Summary: With Red gone, Lizzie started a new life, but it's been hard without Red. A year later Red makes his presence known to Lizzie and they try to find their way back to each other. A Lizzington fic of course.

A/N: First and for most my thanks goes out to my wonderful friend Sarah. She's been with me on this long ride, but without her this wouldn't be what it is. This is going to be a long ride. I've written 44 chapters already and it is still not finished. This is a AU fic. This started in S1 and then I use some bits and pieces of S2 but like I said it is AU. Reviews are truly appreciated it. No flames please. English is not my native language so there could be some grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy. No promises on the frequency of updates.

Chapter one

It has been almost a year now since she had left it all. She didn't want to live in the city where she'd worked because that held too many memories, good and bad. In the beginning she'd stayed indoors. Her days were spent drinking herself into oblivion. She just wanted to forget it all.

The first few months were still a blur to her. She'd slept and drank a lot. She'd hardly ate anything, losing more weight than she could afford to.

It was only a few months since that she'd started going into a small town nearby. Nobody knew her and she liked that. She also liked the house that she lived in. It was on the beach and her closest neighbour was far enough away that she couldn't see them.

Every morning she went for a walk on the beach with Jethro, her Great Dane. It was Jethro, who she'd recently adopted from the kennel in town, that helped her back on her feet again. She didn't feel quite so alone anymore, and he made sure she got out of her house to take him on walks. In the short time he'd been with her, he'd become her trusted companion and her best friend. He was only a year old and still very playful, and she liked that. He made her smile, something she hadn't done in a long time. And when she was sad, he put his head on her lap and comforted her.

Divorcing Tom was nothing compared to living without Red. It is said that you never know what you have until it's gone. It was true. Not having Red in her life hit her so hard that it surprised her. She hadn't known how much she'd cared for him until that fateful day. She'd taken his death hard and felt lost. After divorcing Tom, Red had been there to catch her whenever she felt herself fall. He became the one person she could rely on, but before she even had time to think how she felt about him or how he felt about her, he'd been taken away from her. They had never explored what could have been, but her heart felt the loss like they'd spent years together.

She was still unsure about what had happened. She still remembered that day. She had walked into the post office and she'd just taken her place at her desk, when Ressler had ran in. "It's Reddington", he'd said and ran out again. She'd quickly grabbed her coat and ran after him. They'd arrived at an abandoned warehouse. Inside they found Dembe unconscious and shot in the leg. There was no one else there, but there had been quite a lot of blood that wasn't Dembe's. They all assumed it was Red's, and they also assumed whomever had shot Dembe was the one who'd captured Red. But it was when Dembe had regained consciousness and he uttered the words that still haunted her at night, her world had crumbled. I was too late to save him. He's gone.

They searched for Red that day and every day after that for about a month. But it was no use. Of course, without a body there was still a chance Red was alive, but Dembe had been certain. He had seen Red's lifeless body. She didn't doubt Dembe, he obviously mourned the loss of his friend and boss. She hated that she'd never had the chance to say goodbye. For her father she'd had a funeral and given him the goodbye he deserved. Red deserved that too and she needed it, but everybody had gone on with their lives as if nothing had happened, everyone except her. For her the world had turned upside down.

After two months the post office had been shut down; the unit had split up. Meera had gone back to the CIA. Ressler was sent to work undercover and Aram had left the FBI, saying he wanted a less dangerous job.

She'd only spoken with Dembe one time after the shooting. It was just before he'd left. He'd given her some of Red's personal belongings then gave her his phone number. If she needed him she could call him and he would be there. He'd given her Red's watch, which she wore every day, one of his hats, which had a place on the mantle piece and Dembe had also given her the pen she'd stabbed him with. Apparently Red had kept it. It caused her to smile; it was something Red would do.

Shortly after Dembe's departure she'd left too. The FBI had given her a more than generous compensation for her services. Her father had left her a small house on the beach, which she'd considered selling, but was glad she hadn't. In a way it was comforting to be in her father's house. It held good memories for her. When her father had passed away Red had told her to share the memories and she had done so with him. Now she didn't have anyone to share her memories of Red with. Sometimes she was afraid of the memories. But then at night the memories would be so vivid that the pain hit her all over again. In the harsh light of day, she wasn't always sure what was real and what wasn't. It confused her and the mornings she woke up from those vivid dreams, she always felt worse, the pain even more apparent.

Though she liked the secluded life she was living, she was lonely. She'd cut ties with everyone and no one knew where she was. It had been a very deliberate choice. She didn't want anyone to see her in the poor state she was in. She'd considered calling Dembe. After all he was the only one whom she could talk about the loss she felt. But she didn't want to bother him. Dembe had probably moved on with his life. Something she should do too but didn't seem to be able to. At least she was making progress. She was getting out again and Jethro helped her fight off the loneliness, but she was also afraid. Afraid of what was to come. In a few days it would be the one-year mark of the fateful day and she dreaded it. She was afraid of a relapse. She knew there would be one, but she didn't know if it would overwhelm her life again and it scared her.

After a few hours of sleep that night, which for Liz was a sign of improvement, she walked out of her kitchen and onto her porch with a cup of coffee in hand with Jethro following after her. As she leaned against the porch, Jethro sat down besides her and together they watched the tide roll in and out over the sand. After finishing her coffee, she locked her house and walked along the beach. Jethro ran ahead of her, barking loudly, heading towards the water.

TBC...