Thanks for your kind responses again! :)

I wrote this Chapter during the day and it's way too warm here so I'm sorry if there are even more mistakes in there than before. I'm off to stick my head into the fridge now. :D

I own nada!


Iran has always been one of his favorite countries to visit. He gets his munition and guns from here, and he invests his money in a local oil company. It is a gold mine. They immediately headed off to one of his colleagues who had happen to have connections to Aschkan Mahin.

He had told them that his 'obsession', as he called it, with Red began only weeks ago what is quite odd since his wife died 3 years ago. What are his motivations to kill a woman who just had joined him? Logically, it would make more sense to kill Dembe.

Anyways, they will pay dear Aschkan a visit tomorrow.

Dembe is exceptionally fond of the iran cuisine so they spend the evening together, devouring some delicious Chelow kabab. He would bring some of these for Lizzie, too. His friend shoots him an unreadable glare. It is never a good sign when Dembe does that.

"What?", he asks and reaches for another skewer.

"You're smiling and I try to find the joke in a situation like this!"

He shrugs and nibbles on the meat. "This situation is not about Lizzie anymore but about me. I'd say this is a good thing." He is constantly in danger after all.

"Wonderful indeed.", Dembe replies sarcastically and puts the dishes into the dishwasher.


He makes a few business calls, including a chat with Samar and Mr Kaplan. Kate suggests to send the cavalry for help but he doesn't think it will be necessary.

He runs himself a bath and removes first his vest, then his white dress shirt. The bullet wound has healed without problems. All of this could have been avoided if Lizzie had let him die back then. He talked with her about her bold move but of course she wouldn't hear any of that. Whether he wants it or not, she is as devoted to him as he is to her.

The bigger scar tissue on his back is an entirely different story though and he is uncommonly nervous of her reaction when she sees them. Will she turn him down? Lizzie isn't superficial but those burns are not just on his back. There are also branded onto his soul. They tell a story, a story he wants to forget.

He shimmies out of his pants along with his shorts, and looks over his slightly chubby belly to his feet. It has been some time since he was intimate, really intimate with someone and all this feels abruptly incredibly wrong.

What the hell is going on with him?

He exhales profoundly when he feels the warm water surrounding his body like a cocoon. His brain is full with thoughts, and yet he doesn't know what to think.

Just yesterday he has made the decision that he wants Lizzie. He could make the alcohol responsible for this but it would be a lie.

"The girl. She's worth it." In fact, the 'girl' is a grown up, smart and very attractive woman.

Maybe, it is because he has expected rejection, not affection.

The cell phone in his trouser pockets vibrates. He bends over and flips open the phone.

Lizzie.

"Lizzie. Is everything okay?" He leans back and rests his elbow on the edge of the tub.

"Funny, I wanted to ask you just the same.", she replies warmly.

"Well, Dembe and I had Chelow kabab for dinner, I made a few phone calls, and my comfortable body and I are currently having a bath. So yes, I'm fine." He sounds distant, even to his own ears.

"The meeting, Red!"

"With a bit of luck we'll be back tomorrow. I got information on Mahins whereabouts but something sounds off there."

"You think it's an ambush?"

"Could be. Where are you?", he asks and puts her on speakerphone.

"My hotel room and before you ask, your security is still there. I have eyes on them." It somehow warms him that she's anticipating his questions, but is he really so easy to read?

"Good.", he sighs in relief.

"Why? What do you think?" He hears her rummage through her room.

"And here I thought you're a mind reader.", he snickers and reaches for the soap, "I don't know whether this is about you or me. My gut feeling tells me that you don't matter to him at all except of being a leverage. He or his employees knew that I'd come out of the hole I'm hiding in when you're in danger. That leaves me guessing who those employees might be. There are not many people out there who know about you and me, only ..."

"...the Cabal, the Task Force and Tom."

He opens the bottle, squeezes and sniffles. It's not really to his liking but it will be okay for one night. "Yes, and my bet is on Donald. He has also worked with Anslo to take me out in Brussels and it would make sense if he'd work with Mahin as well. They want to arrest me first and then you, because Ressler knows that he doesn't stand a chance against both of us. Together we are strong but vulnerable apart from one another."

He stops in his doings and rehears the last sentence over and over in his mind. The only sound left is Lizzies breathing on the other side and the splashing of the water in the tub.

"We're gonna make a great team."

And in this very moment he could cry, because realization finally hits him. To other people this would probably sound completely logical but he has learned to think laterally while this is so simple.

"But I wonder if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become less hideous?"

The answer is yes and this time he is sober. He doesn't fear rejection either. He, Raymond Reddington, has made up his mind.

He craves her light and now that she's on another continent, he's back in the dark and lost. But the second they lock eyes again, he will remember that she is worth all this, because they make a great team.

Together they are strong.

"You're such a romantic, Red." She tries to ease his tension and he picks up the noise of bullets falling onto a table.

"You're obviously not unless you consider a loaded gun romantic.", he chides and washes the soap off his body.

"That's in the eye of the beholder I guess.",she responds ironically, "Honestly though, please be careful tomorrow. Dembe and I can't handle another bullet in your chest.", she adds in a serious tone.

"I don't make promises I can't stick to but I'll do my best.", he says tenderly and wraps a towel around him. "Lizzie?"

"Huh?"

He dries himself off, puts on his shorts and brings the cell back to his ear.

"Um, I wonder if you would like to accompany me to Paris tomorrow? There's this restaurant I know, the L'Ambroisie at the Place des Vosges and, uhm the menu is sublime... Really.", he paces the room up and down with the phone balanced between his shoulder and ear, "I know this comes across offhand and you probably have other things in mind than to travel again, because of the jet leg but I thought you'd like to get out of your daily..."

"May I say something, please?"

"Sure!" He stands still now.

"You're cute and I'd like to go to Paris with you.", she whispers the last part so sweetly that he is sure he is going to die.

"I'm glad. I'll make a reservation and pick you up tomorrow." Where are the words when you need them?

"It's a date, then.", she chuckles softly. "Goodnight Red."

"Sweet dreams, Lizzie." He waits until she disconnects the call and closes his eyes. It's a date, then. A date with Lizzie in Paris is all he is thinking while he walks to his bedroom.


Dembe nods as he rounds a corner, the sign for Red to follow him into the building where Mahin should hide in. He values his friends protectiveness but he sometimes asks himself whether he does it because he is not as good in shape as Dembe or if it is the fact that he's older. He shoots better than Dembe. They found out about it when they tried skeet shooting once.

The hall smells of mold and the air is incredibly moist in there. Dembe comes to a stop in front of apartment 18. Glenn is not involved in this case, so this must be the right one. He points to the door.

Dembe is better at kicking in doors though.

He takes the lead from there and aims his gun towards the living room, then to the bathroom. His ear is on the wall and he notices three different voices. All male.

He casually enters the bathroom and shoots everyone but Aschkan. He drops his gun and shakes his head, a half hearted laugh escaping his lips in doing so.

"Aschkan. Look what you've gotten yourself into!" He points to the bodies on the bloodied floor.

Dembe moves past him to take Mahin into a chokehold.

"We have about a minute until you pass out. Lets make this quick. You'll tell me what I want to know and you may live.", he frowns, " You lie, you'll die! Did I make myself clear?"

He receives a choked 'yes' in return.

"Someone charged you to kill Elizabeth Keen. But I assume that was never your real job. Your job was to get me close to you. Who are you working for?"

Aschkan struggles against Dembes hold, the color slowly leaves his face as well.

He raises his gun and shoots him in his right knee. The man whines out loudly and falls to the ground.

"I want a name!", he growls.

"Phelps. Jacob Phelps. That's all I know, I swear.", he cries out.

Well, this is a surprise and it all makes even less sense to him.

They let him lie on the floor and get out before someone else might sees them.

On their way to the airstrip, he dials Lizzies number but it goes straight to voicemail.

"Lizzie, I just wanted to let you know that we're on our way back. I received some interesting information...and I'm looking forward to tonight."

Tbc...Opinions? :)

Well, dinner will be served in Chapter 8. ;)