"And do you know what the best part of our little drama is, Masha? The best part is that thanks to your own efforts, the only man who could possibly save you from me thinks that you are dead!" Kirk's mad laughter would follow her into her nightmares for years to come, Lizzie was sure of it.
The memory of the madness that had crawled through her father's vibrant blue gaze made Lizzie shudder in revulsion. Shaking her head to rid it of the disturbing images, she glanced over towards the piano, unconsciously seeking the comfort Red's solid presence always seemed to provide and suddenly realized with a bolt of panic that the room was no longer filled with the haunting melodies that had been so eloquently giving voice to his pain. Eyes darting around the room frantically, she let out a jagged breath when they found him, now seated in one of the two leather chairs in the room. Weariness lay like a heavy mantle across his shoulders as he sat with his head laid back and eyes closed; a tumbler of scotch dangling from the fingertips of the hand he rested over the arm of the chair. He must have replaced the one he had destroyed earlier from the set residing on the mantle above the fireplace, and Lizzie wished fervently that the rest of the damage done here tonight and in all of the previous months could be so easily remedied.
The amber liquor swirling in the tumbler caught her gaze and she found herself unable to look away, entranced by the knowledge that the fragile glass was prevented from crashing to the floor only by the delicate grip of the man slouched so unlike himself in the chair, his usual bearing of confidence and power replaced now by one that screamed silently of crushing isolation and relentless grief. It was ironic, the symbolism of that glass; a true reflection of their relationship in the last few months. Red had been holding on to her for so long by just his fingertips, his grasp made precarious by her volatile nature and the outside forces working against them. And just as she had, the delicate container he now held could so easily slip from away from him, its contents spilling out and left to spread an ugly stain across the finely woven fabric below. 'Apologies don't erase spilled blood; that stain runs far too deep for mere words to lift out.'
No, there weren't enough words in any language to wash away the blood staining her hands now, but perhaps, if she could help him find a way to spare the lives of two people whose only sin had lain in a misguided attempt to help her, it would, in some small way, be enough to ease some of the pain that she had so carelessly burdened him with.
Slowly Lizzie rose from the floor, muscles stiff from staying still for so long, and made her way silently to where he sat. Standing above him, looking down at his unguarded expression, she really saw him for the first time in years, perhaps for the first time ever, and realized with socking clarity, that right now, in this moment, for all of his strength and larger than life persona, Red was just a man. Not a monster, not the Concierge of Crime or number four on the FBI's Most Wanted list, but just a man who had been betray by those he loved.
Without the intensity of his gray-green gaze to distract her, the physical signs of stress were impossible to miss. She could see the lines around his eyes, and while they had been there for as long as she had know him, there was no denying that they were far deeper now than she remembered them ever to be; his normally robust complexion had gone sallow without the flush his anger had lent it, the only spots of color remaining now were the heavy circles under his eyes, dark enough that they appeared to be bruises. He had lost weight, probably not eating or sleeping properly, his skin now stretched tight over the newly gaunt angles of his features, lending them a harder cast than was their usual wont. Lizzie shook her head, blinking back the tears she knew he would not appreciate. It was just so wrong, seeing him reduced in this manner and Lizzie's throat filled with bile at the knowledge that she had brought to this state.
Inevitably, his eyes opened and she had to look away, unable to bear the weight of what she saw there. Desperate to find something, anything to look at so they would not have to return to his, her eyes darted around the room until they landed on the large stain on the far wall. Clinging to the distraction, her gaze followed the streaks left on the paneling down to the floor, finally alighting on the glass that lay shattered there, forgotten, the only evidence of his earlier rage.
Shattered; it was an apt word for what she had done to him. When he had believed her dead, it had damn near broken him. Learning the truth had been worse, and that was the truth that lived in his eyes now. Yes, shattered was a very apt word.
Red's voice, sounding as tired as he looked, broke into her thoughts and she reluctantly returned her gaze to his.
"Elizabeth, you're right in that we need to talk, and if you are going to continue to insist that it be done tonight, that's fine. But I'd rather not do so with you hovering over me. Please sit down."
Wordlessly she obeyed him, but rather than moving to the other chair as he indicated, she sank to the floor where she stood, sitting almost at his feet. After tonight, she doubted she would be allowed in the same room with him ever again, let alone as close as she was now and she wanted to savor her proximity to him as long as she could. Looking nonplussed at her actions, Red remained quiet, obviously waiting for her to begin.
Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly in an effort to calm her nerves. Lizzie desperately hoped that he would hear her out completely, and by some miracle, perhaps be able to take the barely formed idea growing in her head and turn it into something resembling a workable plan.
"Red, how many people outside of your organization know without a doubt that staging my death wasn't part of one of your elaborate plans?" she asked softly.
His face flushed angrily and his lips pressed together in a narrow line, prompting Lizzie to look down and away as she tried in vain to brace herself against the scathing reply she had seen brewing in his unforgiving eyes. And why should he show mercy to those who had shown his heart none? 'You know the price of betrayal in my world, Elizabeth.' He would not forgive them, was quite possibly incapable of doing so after being wounded so deeply. Holding her breath against the sob that wanted to escape, Lizzie waited despondently for his rejection and the command that would banish her from his life forever.
When the silence in the room stretched out, remaining unbroken for several minutes, she risked a glance back up at him and was relieved by the considering look he now wore. No longer the focus of his gaze, she could almost see the wheels turning in that brilliant mind of his, sorting through his options, accepting or rejecting the various courses of action available to him, once again the master strategist.
Lizzie realized with a pang of regret that she had missed this, the thrill she got while watching his mind work, of trying to keep up with him. It used to frustrate her to no end that she had never quite been able to follow the deep and winding path of his thoughts, but tonight she was simply grateful for his ability to consider the information available and then ruthlessly twist circumstances to his benefit. Lizzie knew that while she may have been the one to plant the seed, if there was any possible way for it to grow into any kind of a successful plan, Red would have to be the one to bring it to fruition. She had no idea how much time had passed when she felt his gaze refocus on her. Trying to keep her features impassive, she waited patiently for his verdict.
"It could work, if handled properly" he conceded cautiously, not ready to give in completely just yet. "Dembe, Baz and Marvin Girard are the only ones inside my organization to know I believed you dead. The rest were only told that I wanted Kirk located and following that, I would take him out myself. They weren't given any explanation beyond the original directive and when the mission turned into a rescue operation, they just assumed it had been part of the plan all along. Besides your three coconspirators, that leaves only the FBI and Omar, the poor man Kate tricked into flying Tom and Agnes to Cuba. The FBI has about as much interest as I do in admitting to being duped so easily, and so can be counted upon to remain silent on the issue. As for Omar, the man is so desperate to get back into my good graces that he'll readily accept whatever story I provide as the gospel." Here Red paused, draining the remaining liquor from his glass before setting it on the small table besides his chair.
"That brings us to the good doctor. He will need reminding of why it is unwise to bite the hand that feeds him. I may handle that conversation myself." He gave a mirthless laugh at the look of dismay that crossed Lizzie's features, adding with calculated indifference "Don't look so worried, Elizabeth. If I'm going to spare Kate, I suppose in all fairness, I'll have to let him live as well. That is the whole point of this exercise, is it not? The real reason you came here tonight? Not to beg my forgiveness, but rather to save your friends from the monster who holds their fates in his bloody hands." His eyes held a challenge in them as he mocked her, almost as if he was daring her to lose her temper. That was how she would have reacted to his taunting in the past, but no longer. Not when she could see the pain behind his anger.
"You're not a monster, Red, and if I had ever bothered to try and understand you, I would never had named you one." The sincerity and quiet conviction in her voice seemed to take him aback, the uncertainty on his face making it plain that he was at a loss on how to respond. After a moment, he cleared his throat roughly and continued.
"Regardless of your opinion of me, there is one glaring flaw to this plan. A fly in the ointment, so to speak." Leveling an uncompromising look at her, he spoke the name that she had been dreading all evening. "Tom."
When it became obvious he would not continue until she responded in some way, she gave in, struggling to keep her voice empty of what she was feeling.
"What about Tom?"
Red's lips twisted in a cruel parody of a smile, the deep rumble of his voice when it came unsettled her with the depth of the hatred it contained.
"Tom has the ability to unravel this whole farce of a plan, Elizabeth, and as much as you might try to deny it, you know it as well as I do. He cannot be trusted to remain silent no matter what I try to bribe or threaten him with."
"I'm not denying it and I won't try to defend him to you. I'll accept whatever decision you make concerning him."
Red gave a derisive sound of disbelief at her words, leaning quickly forward in his seat to bring his face within inches of hers. The sudden movement startled her, causing Lizzie to jerk back from him in surprise. His right arm snapped out and before she could react, the firm grip of his hand on the back of her neck brought her back to him. Her gaze held captive by the fire burning in his, she could only wait helplessly for whatever would come next.
"Tell me, Elizabeth, how big of a fool do you really think I am?" His voice was soft as silk and as deadly as she had ever heard it. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that after everything you've done to be with him, you are now ready to simply accept the fact that I have every intention of killing the father of your child?"