A/N: Wow! Thank you so much for the Follows/Reviews/Messages/Favorites. They are so much appreciated! You guys are amazing and I can't thank you enough. I know I need to post the next chapter to Sightless, but I was so in the groove, I wrote 7 more chapters in one sitting!
Disclaimed, as always.
Chapter 3
The next two days were the most horrible he'd had in decades. He passed endlessly, too agitated to eat, to sleep. He snacked on a power bar here and there, but anything else was too heavy and made him feel as if he may vomit.
It was all too easy to dwell on all of the horrific things that she may have been through.
So instead he chose to focus on the good parts. There were so many to choose from.
When she had leaned in to kiss him one night while in the middle of watching old VHS tapes that she found in a shed at their safe house. How she had slept in his arms because she told him he drove away her nightmares. Her wedding gown of lace and silk.
He knew they moved fast, but time was relative. They'd been on a journey towards their joining since the day they officially met.
It only took weeks on the run for Lizzie to start seducing him. He'd vowed to never touch her, to only provide her with protection and occasional advice.
He tried for days to keep his hands to himself. But in the end, her tears and a plea of 'Don't you love me?' made him forget his vow and kiss her senseless.
Sleeping with her was something he'd never even contemplated, but he'd never known a greater pleasure.
She was his second chance. He cherished her every second they spent together. Loving her was the best and easiest thing he'd ever done in so long he knew he should thank his lucky stars.
Although he knew deep within himself that it was too good to be true. His happiness was never meant to be. That's why he'd so readily believed her death. It was his helicopter that crashed. Two males and one female dead on impact, or so the coroner's report stated.
Her bent, burned, and mangled wedding rings among the ashes of the female's remains. The bodies of the pilot and her private security were positively identified via dental records. Lizzie was sitting in the back of the helicopter near the fuel tank so it would only be logical that the fire burned more intensely where she was.
So consumed in grief, he'd never thought to look deeper into the possibility that it was a ruse. Business had been going strong. No more players than usual wanted his head on a platter. The peace in his world had made him complacent.
It was a mistake that he would never make again.
When Dembe walked into the room he froze "You have news." It was a statement. He knew already because of how out of sorts Dembe looked.
"I have more pictures."
Red swallowed audibly "Has it been confirmed?"
Dembe broke eye contact to swallow and look at the ceiling in concentration. Red knew he was holding back tears "I believe so. The pictures are all low quality, but the woman, she is not there by choice. Our team in place in Columbia spoke with a soldier in the village and said she's only been there for a little over a two months."
That made Red frown "The timeline is wrong."
"Even if the woman is not…her, we need to go in and get her. The informant said that she had been drugged for weeks and has had little to no nourishment."
Dembe had such a pure heart. Even if the woman weren't Lizzie, he would feel the need to help her.
Red's frown deepened "I was not suggesting that we not go. I am merely wondering where she's been for the remainder of the time."
Dembe finally proffered the envelope containing the updated photos.
Red's hands were shaking. He tried to breathe deep, but there was no calming his racing heart.
The pictures told a story that made the bile rise in his throat.
*In the middle of a village was a tiny cage. To call it a hut would be a lie.
*A man standing alone with a gun, guarding it.
*Another man approaching with a canteen.
*The man with the canteen crouching down, pulling a chain.
Oh god, no. The next photo made his heart stutter.
*A woman crawling out on all fours, pulled by the chain like a dog.
*Canteen man kicking the woman and throwing the drink at her.
*The woman crawling back into the hut.
Red wanted to rage and scream. He took a deep breath, wiped the wetness from his eyes. He looked at the photos again, tried to remain objective. The woman, was most definitely mistreated. She was so painfully thin, her bones protruded.
Her hair was shorter in a choppy chin-length bob. He doubted it was cut out of kindness.
None of the pictures showed her face in detail, but the curve of her back, the set of her shoulders told him more than any facial photo would. He'd been staring at that body for years.
He wouldn't leave her there for a second longer than necessary "No more waiting. We are leaving. Call Kate and tell her that we are going in no matter what.
The woman rocked back and forth, huddled in the corner of her cage.
Her medicine. Where were they?
She needed it. It had been too long and she needed it. She needed to see him again.
It was so hard to remember. Lizzie. My name is Lizzie.
No one has spoken to her in weeks.
She was mindless in her grief.
He's dead. He can't save me.
She should have screamed, fought.
But the truth was that she didn't want to. She no longer wanted to exist in a world without Raymond Reddington in it.
So they came with the syringe, always the syringe. When the syringe was empty was the only time she found peace.
Tbc…
A/N: Let me know what you think!