Three Days Earlier - Overlook Safehouse - February 20, 2000 - Colombia
"...Raymond?"
"Josephine, I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?"
Josephine's voice filtered warmly through the connection, "No, not at all, to what do I owe this call?
Raymond took a deep breath, "I need your help…"
"What is it?" she asked, "Another tip off as to what my old man is up to? Or are you finally going to admit I was right about that lovely hostess at Caveau de la Huchette?"
"I still believe she was staring at me," Red retorted with a grin, knowing exactly which instance she was referring to.
Josephine scoffed, "Yes, well she slipped her number into my purse, so who was she really interested in?"
The easy camaraderie they shared was like a soothing balm after all that had happened with the cartel. Raymond took a moment to simply savor the warmth of that friendship, the silence alerting Josephine to the fact that something was amiss.
"What's wrong, Raymond?"
"There's someone else." He informed her without preamble, leaping headlong into the purpose of his call.
The silence on the other end was a heavy one.
It had been years since they had discussed their failed relationship.
There was a day where Raymond was convinced Josephine Molière would always be the one that got away.
However, the more time he had spent playing fugitive, the more Red had realized their relationship would never work in the long run.
Josephine was the daughter of a notorious arms dealer, but she was also blissfully sheltered from the criminal enterprise helmed by the men in her family.
Raymond recognized early on how cruel and selfish it would be to take Josephine from such safety and drag her into his side of the criminal world, knowing full well what could happen to her and the agonizing rift it would create between her and her family.
With her best interests in mind, Red ended their relationship.
Josephine didn't speak to him for weeks, but ultimately accepted his decision.
The romantic feelings began to dwindle away, and in their place bloomed a fierce and undeniable friendship.
Josephine remained Raymond's cherished friend for years, and the only friend he could think of who had never been in the game or under his employ.
When Rosalie entered the equation, however, everything changed.
He cornered her in Brazil and the last flickers of that old flame were immediately snuffed out, buried by the seismic upheaval that was Rosalie Øllegaard.
The yearlong whirlwind occupied Red's every spare moment, so much so that he hadn't seen Josephine in over a year. They had spoken over the phone here and there, and even planned to meet up at one point, but...
"I knew there would be another, one day. Is this the same woman you planned to introduce me to back in December?"
Her tone was a touch chastising.
"Yeah…" Red wavered, knowing what was coming next.
"...but you bailed at the last minute?"
"Twenty-four hours is hardly last minute," he grumbled, "And I hadn't seen her in almost three weeks."
"You wanted her all to yourself," Josephine accused scathingly, "My god Raymond, what a hound you are."
Red was perfectly unabashed, "I brought her to my apartment, made her bouillabaisse and we did all those cheesy holiday things normal couples do. I hope you can understand…."
He could practically hear Josephine roll her eyes.
"Yeah, right. I think it far more likely you had the poor girl bent over the nearest settee the moment you got in the d- Wait, the apartment? The one I was never allowed to see?"
"Yeah, that one," he confided in an undertone, "I…gave her a key."
"Wow…" It took Josephine several seconds to respond, "You've outgrown me."
"I'm completely out of my element here…"
"I knew this day would come," she reminded earnestly, "She'd better be one hell of a woman."
Raymond had known Josephine long enough to tell when there was a smile in her voice. He could hear it now, alongside a slight melancholic note. He supposed it was bittersweet. Their relationship had been so short, barely a blip in either of their lives, but it had been enough to change them both irreparably.
There would be a part of Raymond's soul which would always love Josephine, he realized that love had just changed over the years.
This new love he held for Rosalie was different. From the very beginning it consumed him in a way nothing else had, and he secretly couldn't wait to share that with his dear friend.
"You know this doesn't change how important you are to me, right?"
Josephine laughed throatily, "Raymond we split up five years ago, I'm okay now."
"Still, you're one of my best friends, Josephine. Frankly, you're one of my only friends."
The truth in that statement did not go amiss by either party.
"I know," she quipped cheekily, making Red chuckle. "Now what do you need, old friend?"
He didn't appreciate the unnecessary emphasis on his age, but supposed it was par for the course. "Rosalie-"
"Aw that's a sweet name," Josephine butted in, then caught herself. "Excusez-moi, you were saying?"
"Rosalie was recently taken by a drug cartel and held captive for four days. We just managed to find her and bring her home."
A soft gasp leapt through the connection, "Mon dieu, is she alright?"
Raymond ran idle fingers across the hardcover books shelved in neat rows along the office's back wall. "She's bruised and obviously shaken, but she'll survive. I'm bringing her back to Paris to recoup, but there's a matter that must be dealt with, and I don't want to leave her alone with only her security for company."
"Ah, that's where I come in."
"Please Josephine," Raymond was not above begging in order to ensure his companion would have some semblance of comfort while he was away. "Rosalie means a great deal to me. I just- I don't want to leave her alone, and there's no-one else I would trust to make her feel at ease."
He could hear the thumping ruckus of Josephine pulling her luggage from the depths of her closet.
"Where do you need me to be and when?"
Present - Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 23rd, 2000
Josephine Molière now sat perched at the foot of Rosalie's bed per Raymond's request, waiting patiently for her to come to terms with the new intruder to her domaine.
The woman in question sat up a little straighter, eyes wide with surprise. She peered at Cedric, silently asking if what this woman said was true.
He gave a singular nod, then stepped out into the hallway once more, giving them their privacy.
"You're Josephine?" Rosalie gawked, shocked to be confronted with the woman she had heard so many stories about.
Josephine was strikingly beautiful and smartly dressed, the very picture of a daughter of the criminal elite. Her posture had a relaxed elegance to it which couldn't be taught in any finishing school, and the smooth, gentle lilt of her voice denoted a distinctly French upbringing. The dark chocolate of her eyes sparked and flashed with a distinct air of mischief Rosalie found quite alluring. Beyond that delinquent sparkle lay a palpable warmth which permeated every ion the room.
There was no question in Rosalie's mind as to why Raymond had at one time fallen deeply in love with this woman. She found herself feeling just as smitten.
"You...know who I am?" Josephine seemed taken aback by this knowledge.
Rosalie couldn't help a small, incredulous smile, "Are you kidding? Raymond told me all about you. You were a pivotal point in his life, Josephine."
Raymond and Rosalie had long since discussed the intricacies and eccentricities of their previous partners. They whispered their history back and forth in the dark quiet of their bedroom, a cherished pocket of simplicity spent wrapped in tousled sheets after a long day mired in the criminal underground.
The way Red had told it, his and Josephine's relationship was short-lived but life altering. Josephine was the first, and for a long time, only woman to make him feel like a human being, a man as opposed to a monster. She made him feel cared for, gave him compassion and empathy. Rosalie firmly believed this woman was one of the reasons Raymond was somehow still whole despite his years as a criminal.
Josephine was not a threat, nor was she competition. She was nothing less than Raymond's nearest and dearest friend, second perhaps only to Dembe, and Rosalie had wanted to meet her ever since she'd learned of her existence.
"I assure you I don't mean to intrude," Josephine assured, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her wool skirt, "Raymond merely thought you might prefer some company after everything you've been through."
"Of course," said Rosalie, glancing down to realize she was clad in one of Raymond's shirts and nothing else. She shifted about, running taming fingers through her wild curls. A self-conscious hand lifted to her throat in an attempt to hide the bruises there. "I suppose he told you what happened?"
Josephine smiled wryly, "Yes. I promise I won't pry, I daresay you've been through enough as it is."
An amicable, but slightly awkward silence hung in the room, neither party sure where to go from there.
"I should probably get dressed." Rosalie gestured at her very informal attire with a grimace, feeling a tad exposed.
"Ah merde," Josephine swore, realizing her gaffe, "But of course. I should have thought of that, I will give you some privacy. I took the liberty of having food delivered as well. You slept the day away, it's nearly evening."
Rosalie had just realized the sunlight pouring through the far windows was a deep gold, confirming the late hour. "I'm so sorry, had I known you were going to be here I would have set an alarm or something..." She tapered off, knowing full well she was dead on her feet when they arrived and couldn't have requested a wake-up call if she had wanted to. "I hope you were not stuck waiting all day?"
Josephine brushed off her concern, "Not at all, I came around mid-day. I spent the past few hours getting acquainted with your man out there, Cedric. He is very pleasant...I'll wait for you in the kitchen, shall I?"
Rosalie descended the steps a few minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark emerald slacks, a powder blue cashmere turtleneck, and a comfortable pair of pumps.
Josephine was unboxing a wide assortment of takeaway containers, assisted by Cedric, who was removing a green marble slab from the freezer.
"I hope you don't mind sushi," she said, "The French cuisine in this arrondissement has been ruined by tourist traffic."
"We usually dine in the fourth." Rosalie agreed, making for the pantry and pulling a couple bottles of sake from one of the tall wine coolers.
A strapping fellow with short, strawberry blond hair and a full red beard which reached his necktie ambled into the kitchen when she returned. His freckled face peered thoughtfully down at Rosalie, offering a polite nod and a firm handshake before looking expectantly at Josephine who halted with a pair of chopsticks and a piece of nigiri halfway to her open mouth.
"What? You are perfectly capable of making introductions Has, I'm starving."
The man gave a good-mannered roll of his eyes, the striking blue irises giving Josephine a scolding look before turning back to Rosalie. "Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Øllegaard. My name is Haskell, I am the head of Mademoiselle Molière's private security."
Rosalie smiled warmly back at him, "Nice to meet you Haskell, I hope your stay here is not too much of an inconvenience."
"Not at all, mademoiselle," he readily assured, helpfully relieving her of the sake bottles and gesturing for her to take a seat at the kitchens expansive island. "Cedric was kind enough to set us up with a couple of guest rooms, that way our men can cycle shifts for your security."
Cedric had just finished helping Josephine set up the vast assortment of sashimi, nigiri, maki, and uramaki on the chilled marble slab. The latter patted the seat beside her with a delighted smile.
Rosalie took the spot, loading her plate with a variety of pieces of sushi and nodding her thanks when Haskell passed her and Josephine each a generous glass of sake.
"So," Josephine began, quite obviously vibrating from the sheer weight of her curiosity, "Tell me everything. Where are you from? What brought you to our side of the moral divide?"
A dry chuckle resonated from Cedric and Haskell for the outburst of rather intense questions, but Rosalie took it all in stride. The woman beside her practically bounced with excitement, pointedly ignoring their security in favor of willing answers out of her new companion.
The mischievous twinkle in Josephine's eyes reminded Rosalie so much of Raymond, she found herself diving into the tale before she could even think of a reason not to.
"Once, many years ago, I was just a young woman trying to keep a hold on the family home..."
Overlook Safehouse - Palmira, Colombia - February 23rd, 2000
The safehouse in Colombia was positively bursting at the seams; the various extraction teams having converged upon the abode for what would be a long and strenuous few days.
Raymond and Dembe had only just returned from Paris, throwing the entire compound into battle-ready mode the moment they stepped over the threshold.
Having been in the air most of the last thirty hours, Red felt it was unwise to mount an immediate attack on Los Reyes Sagrados. Instead, he called a meeting with the various fugitives in the home to set his plan in motion.
He and Dembe had spent the majority of the their flight times finalizing the best approach to take down the cartel. Though Dembe did not necessarily agree with Raymond's scorched-earth approach, he could not deny the cartel was nothing short of heinous, and needed to be taken down.
The massive dining room table had been moved to the home's office, its seats already filled with each head of Rosalie's extraction teams as well as Baz, Ted, Dembe, and Kate.
Raymond took his seat at the head of the table, setting his glass down with a heavy thunk before doling out a slow, scrutinizing look.
"Fill me in. Where are we on the cartel?"
Ted occupied the seat opposite Red, having obviously taken charge during his absence. "Your friend the Seeker is already on the cartel's tail, maintaining 24/7 surveillance with the help of Toddrick and Wallace. They've taken to a remote valley thirty clicks southwest of their original location."
A stack of surveillance photos were slid the length of the table for Red's perusal.
"How strategic is their position?" He asked, flipping through the stack of photographs which showed a variety of low and mid-level halcones in a squalid campground nestled within a dense forest.
"Poor," Ted confirmed, "There was vicious fight among the sicarios over who would take up the newly vacated role of Capo. Naturally, the largest and least intelligent contender claimed the crown. The valley he chose is wall-to-wall foliage, which makes it impossible to see who's coming over the hill. With the proper approach, we can be on top of them before they even know they've been found."
Red tossed one of the photographs back into the center of the table, its image showcasing a scrappy-looking bald man in a dirty, tattered button-down. His arms were heavily tattooed, and on his shoulder rested a length of crude metal ending in a length of cable fashioned into a noose.
"Him."
The word came out as a low, venomous snarl.
The whole table straightened at the sound, leaning in to peer down at the image.
"Look at this monster. Memorize his face. Ensure our men know he is to be taken, alive. I want him brought directly to me."
Richard lifted the photograph, examining it closely, then passing it along the line. "Who is this man?"
Red's face turned dark, his scowl deepening at the thought of what that man had done. His tone, to the untrained ear, was purely conversational.
"He's the one responsible for the bruising around Rosalie's neck."
Kate lifted her head, recognizing the statement for what it was...a death sentence.
Raymond was a dangerous criminal to cross. He was meticulous, clever, and absolutely lethal with every move he made. The fate of Los Reyes Sagrados had been decided the moment their involvement in Rosalie's capture was made known. Now, with the knowledge of all that had happened to Rosalie in her captivity, Red was out for blood.
The Capo who took the contract and organized Rosalie's capture was dead, but the sicario who nearly strangled her was alive and well. Raymond was all too eager to ensure the man in the photograph met a particularly gruesome end, of that much, Kate was certain.
"If it's alright with you," deferred Richard, looking between Raymond and Teddy, "We would also like the men to keep an eye out for two halcones with bite marks on their hands."
The room at large nodded solemnly, all of them well aware of Lita's story by now.
"We can enact the plan to intercept the Cartel in forty-eight hours, and will ensure our teams know who to look for. In the meantime, we need to work on getting ahead of the German." Ted brought them all back to the source of their problem, "The intel about his connection to the UK is being pursued by both yours and Rosalie's associates in London."
Raymond nodded his approval, "See if we can't speed things up to thirty-six hours, Teddy. I would like to get back to Rosalie as quickly as possible. While those plans are being put into motion, I want to take a small team to the old campground and see what intel we can't dig up in the remains. I take it they left in a hurry?"
"Yes," Ted confirmed, "A lot was left behind, particularly the Capo's tent. If its contents were left undisturbed, it could carry a wealth of information helpful to locating the men who set the bounty. We can take a solid five man team plus you and Dembe. Baz will stay here and run point on logistics for the ambush."
Teddy's concise and confident demeanor managed to sooth Red's ire somewhat.
Though he had been rather curt with Rosalie's head of security the past week and a half, the man had tenaciously grown into the full weight of his roll. In a matter of hours, the soft-spoken, easy-going lad he'd enjoyed the occasional drink with was gone, and in his place towered a seasoned right hand.
Ted was actively calling the shots, cultivating their strategy, and making the necessary choices for Rosalie's wellbeing and the continuity of her network. Most surprisingly, the hoard of fugitives in the home seemed to have fallen in lockstep, listening to his every word and looking to him for confirmation regarding every plan they made.
Rosalie would be incredibly proud.
Raymond gave the younger man a grateful nod, hoping to convey the gratitude he knew she would have felt were she there.
Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 23rd, 2000
"Wait...Wait. You faked your death, had some huge biker demolish your would-be fiancé, dyed your hair, and took off with a tattooed lady assassin to the south of France?"
Josephine and Rosalie were a bottle of sake in and cracking open another when the topic of Rosalie's descent into the criminal underground became a topic of immense interest.
"Well," Rosalie wavered with an impish grin, "When you say it like that, it makes me sound terribly cliché."
Josephine held out her glass for a refill, an identical grin on her face. "I'm in love."
The two laughed uproariously, partaking in a few more bites of sushi each before nudging aside their plates.
"Enough about my shenanigans, I want to hear some of yours. How did you come across this one?" Rosalie jabbed a thumb in Haskell's direction, earning a dry snort from the woman's security.
A somewhat maniacal laugh tumbled from Josephine's lip, the ill-behaved sound making Rosalie's grin widen further.
"I went through no less than fifteen security guards before I finally got to that one," Josephine confided, raising her glass in Haskell's direction and taking another sip of sake. "My father was furious. Every time I got a new detail I would sneak out and party with my friends, leading my guard on wild goose chases all over Paris...I think one got his foot run over by a taxi, a half dozen others received a lifelong ban from the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower after they ended up in the reflection pools..."
Rosalie tutted with a knowing smirk, "You pushed them."
"I prefer the term outmaneuvered," Josephine corrected smugly, "Anyway, then dear Haskell comes along and what does my father do? He bids me 'bonne chance'. Like it was a challenge."
Both Cedric and Haskell were chortling over their glasses, heads shaking with reluctant amusement.
She continued undaunted, "Moi, being the arrogant youth I was at the time, believed I had finally worn my dear papa to his breaking point, and after sending this last opponent running for the hills, I would be free to run amok as I damn well pleased."
It was all Rosalie could do to keep a straight face, "Oh dear, and what actually happened?"
Josephine's eyes narrowed to slits and a scathing finger was flung in Haskell's direction, "This toad turned up everywhere I went!"
The rest of the room fell into peels of laughter, but Josephine slumped gracefully back into her chair looking the picture of amused disappointment.
"The jazz club, the dance hall, my friends' apartments, everywhere I looked he would pop out of the damn woodwork. I did everything Rosalie, I changed clothes, wore disguises, told the police he was some creep from the bar following me home, none of it mattered. I would no more than get out of my taxi and poof!" She made a ta-da! gesture in Haskell's direction, "There he was, warts and all."
"I'll have you know, I don't have a single wart." Haskell informed, his tone a hair defensive.
"On his face." Josephine corrected, "...Other places?" she tipped her head back and forth, "Meh."
A balled up cloth napkin was lobbed in her general direction, missing by a few inches. She watched the cotton fall lamely onto her plate, then turned to Rosalie.
"Merde his aim is shite, too. Perhaps you would like to take him off my hands?"
Haskell wasn't the least bit abashed. "Oui, are you hiring, mademoiselle? I have glowing references."
Josephine scoffed, "Not from me, he doesn't. On second though, don't hire him, he's a bum, not worth the francs it takes to feed him."
Rosalie tittered into her sake glass, swallowing the last of her drink before settling back into her seat with a smile. "So Haskell, how did you manage to find dear Josephine everywhere she ran?"
Haskell flashed a devilish grin, waggling his neatly trimmed eyebrows antagonizingly in Josephine's direction.
"He cheated." Josephine insisted, working quite hard to keep a straight face, "He sewed a military-grade tracking device into every one of my pocketbooks while I was sleeping the first night he was there."
A deep, throaty chuckle rumbled from Haskell's direction. The man blotted the corners of his eyes with another napkin, chortling all the while, "If you could have seen her face, every time she stepped out of a cab and I was sitting in front of the building she'd ran to..."
The others couldn't help but laugh as well.
Josephine leveled her guard a good-natured scowl before turning back to Rosalie, "It was a clever trick, I do admit. When he explained his tactics several days later, I was so impressed, I decided he could stay."
Haskell bowed his real head, "My continued employment had significantly less to do with my bit of trickery and more to do with the fact that I didn't attempt to squash Josie's fun. Nor did I tattle to Monsieur Molière as to what she was up to. I merely tagged along for the ride, and have been doing so for several years now."
"My god, you must be excellent at sewing by now." Rosalie's quip sent forth another roar of laughter, followed by the scraping of Josephine's chair as she stood and leaned conspiratorially into Rosalie's ear.
"I am in the mood for something sweet, care to join me? There's a lovely little gelato shop around the corner from here."
Josephine and Rosalie donned their coats and hats while Cedric's broad form shouldered past them to check the quiet square for anything suspicious. Finding nothing, he opened the heavy front door and ushered them outside.
He and Haskell followed closely at the women's backs, eyes keen and alert while their charges strode arm-in-arm through the cobbled square, happily chattering away about a variety of subjects.
Josephine had circled back around to Rosalie's life before becoming a criminal. "Oh that pig, what's his name...Francis," she said the name with no small amount of disgust, "I still cannot believe what he said to you."
Rosalie sighed heavily, "To be fair, he got his in the end. They all did."
An odd kind of silence engulfed them before Josephine voiced the question which seemed to have been gnawing at her.
"...What was it like?"
"What was what like?" Rosalie asked, side-stepping an icy patch of sidewalk before lifting her gaze to meet Josephine's, finding her eyes wide with interest.
"Going on the run, taking your life into your own hands. What was it like?"
The question held a note of longing to it. Her eyes too had a somewhat covetous glint to them that Rosalie found surprising.
"It was like-" She searched for the correct turn of phrase, "It was like it had always been there, waiting. I upended my entire world, irreparably, and rather than feeling bereft I felt..." Rosalie couldn't help a bright smile, the truth coming easily now, "I felt free."
She turned her head only to see Josephine frowning at the sidewalk.
"I've never-" the woman hesitated before confiding the truth, "I've never really been free."
"Your father and brothers are protective of you," Rosalie surmised; though she had seen very little of the Molière men during her time with the Armels, that did not mean Rosalie was completely unaware of them and their reputation.
Florian had always contended Augustus Molière was the last of Eastern Europe's true old-school crime bosses. Augustus had a large family, three sons and four daughters in total, and staunchly believed in the separation of sexes. This antiquated idea showed in his ranks as well as his family; Madame Molière and her daughters were kept cosseted away from everything pertaining to the Molière empire. Even the underground elite's annual holiday gatherings and social events were off-limits to the Molière women. This was likely the reason Josephine and Rosalie hadn't encountered each other before now.
In the course of Rosalie's criminal upbringing, both Armels had impressed upon her the level of tact which needed to be employed with men like the Molières. Marietta in particular had been adamant about teaching her newfound daughter to cultivate her feminine wiles in a way which ensured her safety, while her husband had spent his time teaching Rosalie not only how to stand toe-to-toe with such men, but how to come out on top.
"How did you know?" asked Josephine, rather surprised Rosalie seemed to know how her family operated.
"I spent a majority of my upbringing at Florian Armel's right hand, and when I wasn't with him, I was with Marietta." Rosalie guided them around a corner, the lights of the city flashing around them as the gelateria came into view, "I encountered the Molière patriarch and his male offspring a number of times."
A dry laugh fell from Josephine's lips, "Ah, well, I'm the youngest of the Molière girls. The four of us, along with my mother, are mere females. We are not allowed to have a hand in the family's empire."
"It's your father's loss," Rosalie bolstered, hoping to make her feel better.
They were thankfully coming upon the little gelateria, offering a segway out of the melancholic conversation.
"I'd like to try it," Josephine intimated, an adventurous thrill entering her voice, "Just once, I'd like to see what it's like to be on the run."
"Well," Rosalie sighed, reaching out to tug open the shop's door, "Just say the word, and I'll whisk you off on an acquisition. You can get your kicks without any risks."
The two women fell into more peals of laughter as they stepped over the threshold and into the gelateria, Cedric following closely on their heels while Haskell remained outside to guard the door.
The glass case was bursting with every flavor of gelato imaginable in a riot of colors.
The women perused the bright green swirls of pistachio, striking magenta raspberry, and deep hickory mounds of espresso with gusto, sampling a number of flavors before finally making their selections.
Josephine purchased a hearty serving of pistachio for Haskell, then ordered a scoop each of stracciatella and hazelnut for herself. Cedric chose three scoops of tiramisu in the time that it took Rosalie to finalize her choice, meeting the shopkeeper's expectant look with an apologetic smile.
"Une boule de cannelle et une boule de caramel, s'il vous plait." Rosalie requested politely, pointing at her desired flavors.
"Mon dieu, why have we been speaking in English this whole time?"
Josephine practically bellowed the question, sending the shop's occupants into a torrent of laughter.
Rosalie grinned good-naturedly and turned back to the shop attendant, feeling her cheeks burn hotly when she realized he was gawking at her hands. She snatched the appendage back self-consciously, shaking her coat sleeve to cover up her scraped knuckles and chipped nails.
"Ah," Rosalie demurred, catching Josephine's sympathetic look, "It's fine, really. I just kind of forgot I look like I've been in a bar fight."
She took hers and Cedric's gelatos, handed over the correct amount of francs and headed for the door.
"Oh!" Josephine followed after, her expression turning to one of avid excitement, "I actually thought I'd take the liberty of scheduling us for a spa day tomorrow. Raymond mentioned you were in need of some serious pampering after...after everything. I thought it might help."
A day at the spa sounded utterly divine, but the idea of letting anyone tend to her in her current state made a pang of anxiety flare in Rosalie's stomach.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly," she mumbled, looking down at her bundled up body where she knew a cacophony of rather obvious marks were still very much present. "I look horrible at the moment, what would they even do with me? I'm bruised from head to toe. What if someone saw me? I haven't told Florian and Marietta what happened and if they find that out second-hand they will lose their-"
Josephine's cut through Rosalie's rambling, her tone soft and reassuring. "It's a private spa exclusively for the underground, they know of our particular circumstance and are sworn to secrecy. They have a variety of treatments planned that will give you a chance to relax and also help your body repair itself, it's quite safe, and completely confidential."
When Rosalie didn't look quite as relieved as Josephine had hoped, she added, "Sleep on it, mon amie. If, come tomorrow morning, you're still not keen on the idea, we simply won't go. We won't be doing anything you're uncomfortable with, Rosalie."
This obviously comforted Rosalie a great deal, the tightness in her shoulders dropping considerably when she nodded her agreement.
They stepped out into the cool night moments later, gelatos in tow, and turned back in the direction of the safehouse.
They had only just stepped out into the cobbled lane when a familiar face appeared in front of Rosalie.
"Horace?"
He adjusted the satchel on his shoulder and smiled ruefully down at his former charge.
"Heya Rosie."
Overlook Safehouse - Palmira, Colombia - February 23rd, 2000
After much private discussion amongst Red's team, they had all decided the Pepperwood Boys would be the best course of action in activating their long game to take out the German. With that in mind, the three men set out in search of Rosalie's notorious fire starters. It was late evening when Raymond finally went in search of the pair, Dembe and Ted following at a distance.
The twins were found smoking on the back patio alone, as Red had hoped.
"Gentlemen."
Flint and Iggy startled a bit before recognizing the threesome that had joined them out in the dark.
"Mr. Reddington," they nodded in unison, offering Red a cigarette, which he politely declined.
"Mr. Reddington is awfully formal for what I have planned, boys. Please, call me Raymond, or Red, whichever you prefer."
"Okay Red," Flint flicked his cigarette, sending a couple bright sparks into the air, "What can we do for you?"
Raymond's back straightened into a rigid line, his green eyes glinting with a malice visible even in the low light. "I'm hoping, as Rosalie's friends, you would be willing to lend your unique expertise to help put a halt to the long-standing feud she and I have been having with the German."
"And how would you utilize our particular talents?" the pair asked in tandem, putting out their cigarettes in a nearby ash tray.
"I want you to burn both cartel camps to the ground," Raymond said conversationally, his tone perfectly pleasant.
"...Why?" Asked Iggy, immediately a tad suspicious at the request.
He and his twin were environmentalists at their core, and burning down any stretch of rainforest felt sacrilegious to their mutual credo.
"I don't want total devastation," Red assured, "Just that small stretch where the cartel was hiding and the campground where they held Rosalie."
"Why?" Repeated Flint, now suspicious as well.
A sharp huff of air expelled from Red's chest, "If you must know, I need to send a very clear message to the German. Rosalie's abduction was only the latest and most successful in a series of attempts at capture. I'm confident this man won't give up without ample reason. Taking out the cartel is not enough."
The twins shared a look of quiet concern, the hesitancy still quite evident in their identical features.
"Listen Red, we're adamant on helping Rosalie any way we can..." began Flint, "...but this goes against our entire code of ethics," finished Ignatious, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"I understand your hesitation," Raymond soothed expertly, covertly maneuvering to bend the pair to his point of view, "Rosalie explained your views in great detail. You set out to ignite environmental protections in any way necessary, even engaging in green warfare; the kind of aggressive tactics your more moderate contemporaries believe to be beneath them."
Flint pursed his lips proudly, thumbing the straps of his suspenders out of habit. "Our every move has been in service to that agenda."
Iggy nodded his agreement, "So you ought to know by now we believe South American forests have enough to contend with without us fanning the flames of their destruction."
"That's understandable," agreed Red, backpedaling slightly so as not to permit a premature end to their negotiations, "However, keep in mind controlled burns are often utilized for the health and well-being of forests around the world. It's also the wet season here, which significantly reduces any chance of spread. What I'm asking for is less than an acre."
He could see this did little to persuade the twins.
Changing tact, Raymond tried being brutally honest with what he required. "I need to draw global attention to the cartel's demise. I need it to be on every news outlet from here to Shanghai. Any criminal worth their salt will eventually find out it was this German fellow pulling the strings, and knowing what happened to the last guy that lent him a hand, they'll be significantly less likely to lend a hand themselves. This isn't a push for personal gain or wanton destruction, I'm merely trying to get the target off of Rosalie's back."
Flint and Ignatious spared him a sympathetic glance before shaking their heads as one.
"We're sorry, Red," one apologized, "...but we aren't budging on this," confirmed the other, adding, "We will absolutely help conjure up another idea to bring the attention you require, but it will have to be another way."
Raymond chewed the inside of his cheek, feeling a bubble of frustration burst in his gut. He nodded and spun on the ball of his foot, returning to the safehouse before he could say something he would inevitably regret.
Red, Ted, and Dembe immediately returned to the quiet office, going back to the drawing board for a plan to bring international attention to the decimation they were about to inflict on Los Reyes Sagrados.
Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 23rd, 2000
"Horace...Why are you here?"
Not wanting to linger out in the open, the foursome decided to return to the safehouse and address their sudden plus one there.
"Is Florian aware you've gone off without leave?"
"Oh dear god, please tell me he doesn't know what happened."
"I understand Otto is away on leave, but that doesn't give you free rein to run off wherever you damnwell please."
Cedric's voice was an uncharacteristic bark, his aggravation quite evident.
Rosalie knew it was only the secrecy of her stay in Paris that was keeping him from calling Florian directly to report Horace's malfeasance. It was a show of loyalty she deeply appreciated.
She repeated her earlier question, "Horace, what are you doing here?"
"I'm doing well, thanks," he retorted, attempting to make a comment about their lack of proper greeting. Neither party seemed to be budging though, so he begrudgingly answered their questions.
"I'm here to take Rosie up on her previous offer of a job. I think it comes at an opportune time, considering what happened in Colombia. She's obviously in need of a proper guard."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" snapped Rosalie, eyes narrowing darkly. As far as she was concerned, she and Teddy were doing fine without him, up until this debacle.
Cedric's booming voice took precedence, however, carrying easily above the others. "You offered him a job?"
Rosalie's arms crossed in a huff, "Oh don't give me that look, Cedric. You know as well as I, Florian has been treating him like an unwanted guests."
"Because he left you." He barked back, whipping around to confront Horace once more, "In the middle of the biggest deal of her life, the most dangerous exchange of her career, you showed blatant cowardice."
"I left because Reddington was going to get her killed." Snarled Horace, thrusting a finger in Rosalie's direction, "And look what damn near happened!"
Cedric face twitched unpleasantly, "Who even told you what happened in Colombia?"
Josephine and Haskell sat in their stools at the kitchen island, eating their gelato and watching with avid interest while the threesome bickered back and forth.
"Ted called me, if you must know, shortly after Rosalie disappeared."
"He shouldn't have done that..." Rosalie murmured, but no-one heard. The bitter argument unfolding between Horace and Cedric was deafening, months worth of pent-up resentment finally coming to a head.
"So you just show up, out of the blue, to play the hero."
"I don't need to play the hero. She can't stay attached to your hip forever, Cedric."
"You walked away. If you think I'm going to let you just waltz back into her life after months-"
"I don't know if anyone's told you, Cedric, but it is not your decision, it's Rosalie's."
Josephine noticed the woman in question had gone eerily quiet.
The cacophony of the room seemed to have become overwhelming, as Rosalie had shrunk back into the shadows of the hall, her hands clenched in tight fists. Anger and distrust were palpable entities in the room, making the air feel heavy and crackling with discontent. She watched the spectacle through hazy eyes glazed over with distraction, not even hearing when Josephine came up alongside her. The soft, warm voice near her ear made her jump.
"Why don't you head upstairs and ready for bed while these two wear themselves out? I'll bring up some tea."
Rosalie nodded in a daze, turning automatically and making for the staircase amidst the continued bellowing down the hall.
Once she was safely on the second floor, Josephine whipped back around and stomped into the center of the fray.
Horace and Cedric were nose-to-nose, trading insults and accusations with venom.
"Hey!" She snapped, wedging herself between the two.
Both towering guards peered down at the petite barrier which had appeared between them, eyebrows quirking at the spitfire poking them both in the chest.
"Knock it off, the both of you! Don't you think Rosalie has been through enough without you two having a schoolyard tussle in her kitchen?"
Cedric took a step back, looking properly chastised, but Horace took it as an opportunity to rush forward.
"Break it up, boys!" Josephine shouted as she toppled backward, still shoving at his chest to no avail.
Cedric thrust out his hands, catching beneath her arms before she could hit the ground. At this, Haskell vaulted out of his seat and gripped Horace's collar, forcefully yanking him back several steps.
"Enough."
Rosalie had come back down at the sound of Josephine's shouting, snapping out of her daze the moment she encountered the scuffle occurring in the kitchen. She stood framed in the wide archway, a cashmere robe wrapped tightly about her pajama-clad frame.
Her arms crossed over her bosom, the anger and disapproval quite evident in her dark countenance.
"These are my guests."
She bit out the words, volatile gray eyes zeroing in on her former guard. "These people are guests in my house, and should be afforded every show of hospitality. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Cedric gently lifted Josephine back to her feet, quietly murmuring a string of apologies for the altercation and manhandling her.
She responded with a flushed smile, assuring him in rapid French that she didn't blame him in the slightest.
"Josephine, I'm so very sorry you had to get caught up in this display," Rosalie apologized, her baleful gaze returning to Horace seconds later. "I assure you this is not a common occurrence."
"It's no trouble," Josephine waved an airy hand, quieting when she recognized just how angry the other woman was.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long, slow exhale, Rosalie set about righting her ship. "Horace, step into my office. Cedric, please ensure my guests are settled."
Once Josephine and Haskell were safely upstairs, Cedric returned to the first floor, taking up his post outside Rosalie's office, where he could easily hear the conversation occurring inside.
"I've known you to be lethal, certainly, but I've never known you to be boarish, Horace. You could have hurt her. Aside from the fact she's one of Raymond's oldest friends, Josephine Molière is also the daughter of a preeminent arms dealer whose associates I regularly work with. I have no idea how much of her stay here will make it back to her father, and subsequently my clients. You may very well have just created a colossal issue for me."
Horace's tone, at least, was deeply apologetic. "I am truly sorry, Rosie. It's not been a cake walk since I went back to the Corsicans, Cedric just got under my skin."
"Be that as it may, but you are usually far more poised than this, Horace. I have enough on my plate without all this. You need to find your way back to a level head. I simply can't afford to employ someone who actively undermines my business."
"So...your offer is still on the table?" The hope-filled question made Cedric's insides churn, his fists clenching in irritation.
Rosalie redirected, seemingly not ready to welcome him back just yet. "Where does Florian think you are?"
"He thinks Cedric asked for my assistance on the 'project' he was working on, was happy to see me go, really."
Cedric felt a hot bubble of resentment burst in his gut, knowing the man had outright lied to Florian in order to come to Paris.
He could hear Rosalie heave another heavy sigh, recognizing that Horace had just unknowingly made both their lives more difficult. Florian would be furious when the truth came to light.
"Rosalie, I heard what happened and all I could think was that you could have been spared all that if I had just swallowed my pride and stayed." Horace's voice was heavy with guilt, "I wasn't there to protect you, but I'm here now. I want to help keep you safe."
A deafening silence was all that greeted these words. Rosalie weighed her options for several long moments, obviously considering the pros and cons of taking Horace back into the fold.
"If you want the job, you need to show me you can still handle it. That means biting your tongue when presented with something or someone you dislike." She added pointedly, thinking not only of Cedric but of Raymond. It was no secret there was no love lost between Horace and either man.
"Consider this a trial run. Cedric and Haskell need a third hand so they can both get some sleep. If I catch so much as a whiff of animosity between you and Cedric, or if you are anything but cordial to Josephine and her guard, you're out. Understood?"
"Understood," he agreed readily.
Cedric could hear the scraping of a chair as Horace stood. Peeking through the crack in the door, he saw the man envelop Rosalie in a rib-cracking hug.
To his surprise, Horace's attention turned immediately to the safe house's missing party.
"Where are Reddington and the others on finding the German?"
Rosalie stepped back, resting against the office's desk with a weary sigh, "I believe they will search the old campground tomorrow morning to see if they can't unearth any viable intel. After that, I'm not entirely sure."
That was an outright lie.
Cedric knew that Rosalie was completely aware of what wreckage Reddington was about to leave in his wake. It was reassuring to him to find she was at least being pragmatic where Horace was concerned. Though he was still a trusted guard and friend, he had left her in the lurch, and she would be withholding of important details with him for a long while before her complete confidence in him could be restored.
Abandoned Cartel Campground - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 24th, 2000
It was still quite dark when Reddington's team set out for the abandoned campground where they had found Rosalie.
With no sense of impending doom, the two-hour car ride seemed to be much shorter this time around.
Kate and Helia were left behind with a contingent of armed guards as well as Lita and the Lilets, while Dahlia, Fred, Teddy, and the Pepperwoods all went with Red.
The pair of jeeps climbed the crest of the hill leading to the camp shortly before five in the morning, stopping just before the edge of the clearing.
Half a dozen mercenaries poured from the vehicles, quickly fanning out into the dark landscape to scour the campground.
The others waited with bated breath until Dembe and Teddy arrived back atop the hill ten minutes later.
"The campground is clear," said Ted, "No hostiles, two bodies; one's by the tent and another's in the corral. The Capo's quarters have been ransacked, but still standing. Other than that there's not much left here boss."
Red nodded his thanks, then followed his men down the hillside and into camp with Dahlia, Fred, and the others brought up the rear, making a single-file line through the moonlit grounds.
Where there had once been dozens upon dozens of canvas tents lined up in rows, now there was now only trash. Old milk crates, boxes, random possessions and articles of clothing littered the space where they walked, making several turns about the clearing before giving it up as a lost cause.
They made for the second clearing at the very bottom of the hill next.
Raymond felt his stomach pitch unpleasantly when they came upon a crude corral built of scrap metal and half-rotted boards. Daylight was finally starting to illuminate the inky blackness, making it easier for them to see the wreckage around them.
Dembe and Ted followed him through the open gate, moving to flank him on either side.
The scene which unfurled before them was horrifying.
A rut had been worn in the dirt floor, showing where body after body had been dragged from the back of the enclosure to the gate.
The recollections of Rosalie's captivity echoed in Red's mind. The sound of her fractured voice seemed to fill the haunting space, its current occupants shocked into horrified silence.
Flint gestured to a limp, bloated figure huddle at the corral's front edge. "That must be the one she killed. My god he's enormous...no wonder they left him behind."
Ignatious kicked over what had once been a white bolder, the softball-sized rock caked with dried blood turned a rusty brown from the sun and the heat. "Must've bludgeoned him to death. Good on ya, Rosie."
Raymond walked over and picked up the boulder, turning it over and over in rough palms. His nose flared with disgust, skin crawling at the feel of it in his hand. A closer look showed a series of small, uniform scratches just discernible on the stained surface, nail marks from a small hand clutching the stone like a lifeline.
He allowed the foul object to roll from his fingertips and fall with a heavy thud back to the hard earth.
The whole corral wreaked of blood and death, sending no shortage of men retching into the nearby bushes.
Raymond held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth so he could take in the squalid hell before him, noting the bloody handprints on the cracked wooden walls, the dark patches of earth where bodies had lain. Fear threatened to flare like a wildfire inside him, his knotted mind able to perfectly picture the horror of finding Rosalie huddled in the back of the corral where a dark halo indicated a mass killing.
"There is nothing for us here. We should move on."
It was Dembe's voice which cut the ungodly quiet, bringing Red crashing back to earth with shattering force.
He lurched forward, the meager contents of his stomach emptying onto the stained forest floor without warning.
Taking a number of deep breaths through his mouth, Raymond gathered himself, spitting bile and wiping his mouth several times with his handkerchief before gesturing for the group to circle back out of the corral.
Dembe was right, there was nothing here, only death remained.
They all filed out quickly, heading back up the hill to the Capo's tent in somber silence.
Daylight's pink and gold streaks were just beginning to trickle over the hillside when they reached their destination.
The Capo's body had been left in a heap outside the entrance, stench driving most of the group to steer clear of the location altogether.
In the end, only a handful entered the tent to help in the search for additional intel.
A quick look about the ransacked space revealed one of Rosalie's recognizable knives embedded in a nearby desk. Its blade pinned a white rectangle to the center of the furniture's gleaming surface.
"Son of a bitch."
It was Ted who swore, his eyes fixated on the desk.
"What?" Red asked, scowling confusedly between them.
"I cleared this space myself, and that," Ted pointed at the knife, "That wasn't here."
He wasted no time in rallying the troops, tightening the strap about his gun and bellowing for their men to fan out once again in search of hostiles.
The sound of scuffling boots could be heard outside, sending the tent's interior into calamity while Teddy tore through the opening to command their guards.
Red ripped the rectangle from beneath the blade, flipping it over to reveal a black and white photograph that made his heart plummet into the soles of his feet.
The image was of Rosalie and Josephine.
The pair were bundled up and beaming, walking arm-in-arm down a crowded Paris street. Cedric and Haskell's vigilant profiles moved stealthily behind them, eyes obviously scouring their surroundings for threats.
A messy scribble of red ink marred the corner of the photograph.
Ich hatte sie einmal.
Ich werde sie wieder haben.
"Dembe!" Red called, beckoning the younger man to his side. He was beside him in seconds, quickly scanning the photo over the other man's shoulder.
Dembe visibly hesitated, brow furrowing at the sinister text before uttering the translation.
"I took her once. I'll take her again."
La Cathédrale - Paris, France - February 24th, 2000
Early afternoon saw Rosalie and Josephine checking into the exclusive La Cathédrale. Tucked safely beneath the cobbled Avenue des Champs-Élysées, La Cathédrale was a haven for the weary criminal elite.
The spa was named for its dark stone interior and the peculiar method the proprietors used for lighting its spaces. Rather than running traditional electrical, they utilized refracted light from the street above, which in turn cast bright sunlight through hundreds of panes of stained glass in the tunnels below. This made the whole space glow with spectacular colors, casting varying shades of blue, green, red, and purple on the retreat's occupants.
Rosalie was enamored with the kaleidoscopic effect, turning about in circles within the atrium to watch the lights dance and change with the fluctuations in daylight.
Josephine sniggered delightedly at the scene, threading her arm back through Rosalie's and guiding them both to the tunnel leading to the ladies' lounge.
Cedric and Horace took places at the entrance of the tunnel and the door to the lounge, ensuring no-one could enter without going past them both. Haskell remained on surveillance in the lobby, quietly observing each and severy newcomer arriving at the establishment.
The lounge's interior was nothing short of stunning.
The whole of the ceiling was a stained glass dome, shining brightly from the refracted light above it onto surfaces of dark mahogany and pristine white marble. Dark purple silks marked the entryways between the alcove changing room and the various saunas, showers, and vanities, draping in romantic puddles in the room's nooks and corners.
The women were immediately lead to their private alcove by a smiling spa attendant, who provided them with soft fluffy robes and directions for the biometric safes and lockers available in their suite.
Without further ado, they began hanging up their outerwear and various clothing, slipping into the plush cotton towel wraps provided, the hems glittering with the establishment's initials in gold thread.
Josephine couldn't help but sneak a look as Rosalie slipped a shoulder holster from her person, the heavy gun which usually dangled at her side was nestled carefully into the provided safe along with another firearm from the small of her back. Her eyes widened to dinner plates when a pair of knives followed from her wrists, making Josephine wonder if Rosalie was always so well-armed.
Those questions dissipated into the ether when the woman removed her sweater, showcasing the full extent of the injuries she had incurred at the hands of her captors.
Rosalie looked as though she were made of glass. Her skin was pale, the mottled bruises marbling her body spoke to a much more heinous reality than Josephine had realized. The knowledge made her heart ache with empathy.
"You should see the other guy." Rosalie teased half-heartedly, catching Josephine's heartbroken expression.
"I-" she blushed profusely, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to stare..."
The apology was waved aside without another thought, "I assure you it's fine, really, I'm quite alright."
Josephine was pointedly silent for several long moments, seeming to reckon with the reality of what had happened to Rosalie.
"I've had a fleet of bodyguards since I was a toddler. I thought I was used to...this." She gestured at Rosalie, then at her own feet, "I've spent my whole life around criminals, hearing the warnings from my parents, telling me never to go anywhere alone, never to be out of my bodyguard's line of sight, never to leave the estate after dark...I thought I knew what our world was like, but I don't really, do I?"
Rosalie shrugged, "You might count yourself lucky, learning the truth about our world is a terribly rude awakening. I wouldn't recommend it."
There was no new lease on life after her brush with death. The sky didn't look bluer, the grass wasn't any greener. If anything, the world looked a hair darker in Rosalie's eyes. The blinders to the worst of humanity had been ripped off rather unceremoniously, and she was still reeling from the blindside.
She would never wish that on Josephine.
"...Is it still worth it?"
The question was a genuine one, but it still gave Rosalie pause. "Sorry?"
"Being on the run with Raymond, I mean. It's just-" Josephine wrung the hem of her towel fretfully, "I can't help but wonder, after all you've seen and been subject to recently...Do you still think it's worth it?"
Rosalie smiled down at the ring Raymond had given her, wiggling it from her finger to place it safely inside the safe and closed the lid.
"Yes." She stated confidently, engaging the lock and turning to face Josephine once more. "Our life together is worth all of it; the fear, the uncertainty, the chaos...I believe there is no level of hell I wouldn't walk through if Raymond was waiting on the other side."
Josephine fought to keep her face neutral while her insides leapt uproariously.
"Good."
She quickly recused herself, leaving Rosalie to finish changing in peace while she scoured the space for a secluded corner. Once safely out of sight, Josephine felt her eyes prickle with moisture, a feeling of blissful finality crashing over her.
There was not a drop of jealousy in her heart for Rosalie. Knowing Raymond was at last happy and had someone steadfast to call his own provided Josephine with a great measure of relief.
Their relationship had nursed an open wound for these past five years which finally felt healed. It was the closure they had never managed on their own...
Raymond was safe with this woman. He was happy, safe, and most importantly, loved.
Josephine would never have told him so, but she struggled to date ever since their failed attempt at romance. A part of her had always been held for Raymond; long after the romantic feelings had dissipated, she still felt beholden to that lost love, to his happiness.
Now, it was as though the door to new possibilities was open.
At long last, Josephine's heart was free.
"Josephine?"
Rosalie hadn't been paying attention, and was cursing herself for it.
Looking up to find herself completely alone in the cavernous lounge sent an icy feeling crawling into the pit of her stomach, chilling her from the inside out.
Something felt off.
Something was wrong, she could sense it.
Where was Josephine?
"J-Josephine?"
The minuscule call went unanswered, the only disturbance being the fluctuating lights from the overhead windows.
Why was her heart beating so fast?
A door closed with a bang somewhere on the far end of the lounge, making Rosalie nearly jump out of her skin.
Panic sent her immediately scrambling into the back alcove, as far from the stained glass windows as possible.
Her pulse was racing erratically, her heart slamming against her ribcage with far too much force to be considered healthy.
There was someone in here. She could feel it.
They were coming to take her again.
"…Rosalie?"
Josephine peered around the arch, clutching her robe closed and confused as to what was going on.
Warm, dark eyes landed upon Rosalie, backed in the corner of the alcove with her hands clutched tightly over her head.
"Hey…It's okay, you're okay. We're safe here." Josephine soothed, hurrying into the room and kneeling at her side.
"I-I-I…"
Rosalie struggled in vain to voice a coherent sentence, looking pleadingly up at Josephine, "I d-don't know what's wrong with-with me."
"Okay, that's okay, I'm here to help." Josephine tried admirably not to let on that she was completely out of her element. "Can you tell me what you're feeling?"
"I just- F-feel like the walls are clo-closing in and the-the windows, the w-windows..."
"Tell me what to do," Josephine pleaded, smoothing a reassuring hand over Rosalie's curls. "How can I help?"
"Cedr- P-please get Ce-Cedric..."
Abandoned Cartel Campground - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 24th, 2000
Raymond's stomach felt as though he had been dropped fifty feet straight into an ice bath. "Give me the satellite phone."
The appropriate number had already been dialed and was ringing when Dembe handed over the device.
The call answered on the fourth ring.
"Yes?"
"What the hell are you doing, answering Rosalie's burner?" Red recognized Horace's voice immediately, his concern mounting by the second.
"Nice hearing from you too, Reddington." Horace's tone was deceivingly polite and casual. He was taking great enjoyment out of stringing the obviously distraught fugitive along.
"Is she in your sight?" Raymond questioned, forgoing any pleasantries.
"Non," Horace drawled, irritably withholding any further insight.
"What?" Red barked with enough volume to make the other man hold the phone at arm's length, "Why the hell has she been left alone?"
"She's not alone," he was summarily informed, "She's in the ladies' locker room with your other lady friend."
Reddington's tone changed to one effectively laced with poison, "Go. Ensure that's precisely where she is."
Horace seemed disinclined to do so. "Rosalie is perfectly fine, Reddington. She's at the spa with your friend, and any interruption would not be appreciated."
The careless retort was enough to make Red's blood boil. He was preparing to unleash that pent-up aggression on Horace when a short, heated argument could be heard happening in French on the other end of the line.
Cedric's smooth, authoritative voice then eased over the connection.
"Oui?"
"Get Rosalie in your line of sight, now."
Though Cedric was not the type of man to take orders from anyone, he could easily understand from Reddington's tone that there was something dire afoot.
He flashed Horace a disgruntled glare which promised he would pay for his unhelpfulness later. Tearing across the hall, he barely managed to wrap his fingers around the handle to the ladies' lounge when Josephine came hurtling out in a fluffy white spa robe.
Coming face to face with her target, she grabbed him by the tie and yanked him into the room without a word.
"Où est-elle?" Cedric asked, phone still clutched in one hand as he followed Josephine's lead, keeping his eyes politely on the floor.
Thankfully, there weren't any other women in the space at that moment, so his efforts were for naught.
His guide brought him to an intimate alcove where the sound of stuttering breaths could be heard. Josephine pointed within and murmured, "Elle est ici. Je ne sais pas ce qui s'est passé, elle a juste commencé à paniquer, quelque chose à propos des fenêtres."
Cedric's broad build shouldered into the quiet alcove, shoving the phone into Josephine's hands then swiftly and silently closing the distance between himself and Rosalie.
She was curled in the back corner in naught but a towel wrap, clutching at her sides in an effort to calm her panic.
He slipped into the space behind her, encasing her quaking form in a painfully tight hold to slow the rush of anxiety coursing through her system.
"Breathe, cherie. Slowly, in-" he breathed with her, "...and out. That's it, in-"
They continued in this way for several minutes, breathing slowly together as the terror began to subside.
Raymond could be heard bellowing orders on the other end of the line, his fury evident in the vicious call for his men to leave no stone unturned in their search for a hostile believed to be in the immediate area.
"Josephine."
"Raymond?"
"Tell me what's going on. Please."
The fervid plea was most uncharacteristic of the man she knew.
"I'm not entirely sure. I stepped away for a moment, came back around the corner and she was in a state of terror. I don't know what to say, Raymond. There's nobody in this lounge but the two of us, I made absolutely sure of it. Cedric and Horace were just outside the door and Haskell has been running surveillance in the lobby the entire time."
Red believed her, but her reassurances didn't soothe his concerns.
"Hand me to Cedric."
The man in question held out an expectant hand, taking the device and returning it to his ear with a curt, "Oui?"
"You need to return to the safehouse immediately. I don't know how he managed it, but it looks like the German or one of his associates snagged a photo of Rosalie and Josephine last night. We have to assume he knows where you are."
"How?" Cedric asked, carefully schooling his features so as not to alert the ladies to the problem.
Reddington could be heard huffing in the background, amidst loud bangs and men shouting. "The photo was left for us at the campground where we found Rosalie. There must be a leak in one of our organizations; until we can find the source, nobody outside of you and Haskell should be made aware of Rosalie's movements."
"Understood."
Cedric ended the call as a chirp sounded from the radio at his hip.
It was Haskell, confirming there was nothing out of the ordinary.
"The others are sweeping the grounds now," Cedric informed Rosalie, noting her pulse had already slowed considerably from what it was earlier. "I promise, there's nobody here that shouldn't be."
She nodded shakily, eyes still fixated on the floor. "Can we go home, please? I want- I want to go home."
"Of course," said Josephine, whipping open their lockers and grabbing both sets of clothes. "We'll leave immediately."
Cedric helped ease Rosalie from the floor, guiding her up onto wobbly feet. "Ça va, chérie?"
"Je vais bien," she confirmed, waving him off so she could get dressed, "Just...stay close?"
He nodded assuringly, gesturing that he would be just outside the alcove while they changed.
They dressed hurriedly, Rosalie checking her firearms several times before following Josephine out into the hallway where Cedric waited patiently, his side arm already in hand.
Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 24th, 2000
Rosalie crashed on the drive back, falling into an exhausted sleep a few short blocks from the spa.
It was Cedric who carried her from the armored car, up the flight of stairs and into the master bedroom.
"Raymond called, when we were at La Cathédrale." She murmured drowsily, kicking off her heels and looking up at him with hooded eyes that could barely focus.
He coaxed her under the blankets without meeting her gaze."Oui."
Cedric had no intention of relaying what Reddington had divulged about the German knowing their location. Rosalie was too shaken, too emotionally vulnerable to be burdened with such a heavy weight just now.
Reality could wait a little while longer.
"Did he sound alright?"
Thankfully, the purpose of Red's called didn't seem to matter much to her.
Cedric's lips quirked upward, "Like he was ready to spit fire."
"That sounds about right," she gave an enormous yawn, "I worry when he's out there alone. I hope he's safe."
"He's not alone."
The reminder fell on deaf ears, "You know what I mean. Things are different when I'm there."
"I'm sure he's fine," Cedric murmured, tucking the blankets more securely about her. "You should rest."
He needn't have bothered, Rosalie was out again in a matter of seconds. Satisfied, he bent and kissed her cheeks twice before dimming the lights and making to leave the room.
Josephine Molière stood waiting in the arched doorway.
"You love her." She stated, observing the show of affection with a curious expression.
"I do," Cedric admitted readily, ushering her from the entry with a gentle but firm hand to the small of her back. He turned and drew the double doors closed, leaving one side ajar so he would hear any movement or call.
Josephine was a bit taken aback, "Does Raymond know this?"
"I do not love Rosalie the way Reddington loves her," he corrected, politely placing Josephine's hand in the crook of his arm and walking with her down the lengthy hall. "People have oft speculated about our relationship, because Rosalie and I have always been close, however, I assure you Rosalie has always been a cherished sister in my eyes."
"Oh..." Josephine found herself breathing a sigh of relief, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed..."
Cedric did not seem the least bit fazed.
"When I was a young man, I begged the powers that be for a sibling; someone with whom to cause mischief, someone to pick fights with, perhaps a little sister whose pigtails I could pull..." The thought made him chuckle for a moment, then his smile inexplicably fell.
"I was seventeen when my father passed, and in that moment I would have given my whole world to have a sibling to lean on...To feel like I wasn't shouldering that burden alone."
A pang of empathy gnawed at Josephine's insides. She grasped his forearm a little tighter, "That's why you gravitated to Rosalie?"
A thoughtful frown pulled at Cedric's features, "Yes. When she came to us, she had just lost her parents. She understood."
Josephine beamed warmly up at him. "She became your friend."
"My closest friend in this world." He confirmed with a quiet grin, "That first night she stayed with the Armels, we snuck up into the château's glass dome and listened to records and drank ourselves stupid. We told each other the stories of our lives; it felt like we were making up for lost time. I told her how I had always wanted for a sibling, and from that day onward she treated me like the annoying yet lovable big brother I had always longed to be."
Something from the past few days seemed to click into place.
Josephine recalled with increasing clarity the playful and at times downright feisty demeanor with which Cedric and Rosalie interacted. "The snarky banter...The bickering and badgering, that's all an act?"
"It's how we show affection," Cedric confided, "We never had siblings, but we will always have each other to terrorize."
The sound of the pair's stifled laughter drifted languidly down the hall and into the master bedroom, where Rosalie remained dead to the world.
Abandoned Cartel Campground - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 24th, 2000
Raymond bowed low as he tore through the tent's entry, the photograph of Rosalie and Josephine still pinched between his fingers. He slipped the evidence into his jacket pocket to be studied later. Security footage would be pulled from the area, associates would be put on the ground in Paris to vet every single person on that street at the moment the photograph was taken. No stone would be left unturned.
Red still dreaded it would not be enough.
Restless legs led him away from the tent, fuming from the soles of his feet to the top of his scalp.
The men were scouring a wide perimeter looking for the person responsible for the photograph's sudden appearance. Nothing had turned up just yet, and Raymond doubted it will.
They were perpetually a step behind.
This could not be allowed to stand.
He needed a way to send the German's would-be allies scrambling.
Red suddenly halted his retreat, looking up to see Teddy standing rooted to the spot in the middle of a metal cage which looked to have once housed an exotic animal.
The rest of the party was scrambling, looking every which way for clues, but Ted was still and silent as a statue in the battered enclosure.
Raymond moved closer, Rosalie's voice echoing clear as a bell within his skull.
'He took me away from the others, the man with the catch pole. It was on the Capo's orders. He brought me to a metal cage halfway up the hill and threw me inside. They left me there for three days...'
This was where they held her, when she and the other women dared to fight back. This was where Rosalie had protected Lita as best she could, where she had waited in vain for Raymond to find her.
In the end, it was not he who had found her.
It was she who had found him.
Rosalie used her own wiles to bend a cartel member to her will, and that cartel member just so happened to follow through. It could very easily have gone the other way.
They were unbelievably lucky.
"I can't stop imagining her in this cage."
Ted's somber voice was gruff, volatile, completely uncharacteristic of the man Red knew.
"Yeah." He was at a loss for something helpful to say. Because now that Ted mentioned it, it was all Raymond could see, too.
"I failed her." Teddy murmured, looking about the enclosure with a look of stifling guilt. His shoulders hunched with the weight of that self-blame.
"We all did."
Raymond recognized he had wrongly lain the blame at the other man's feet a number of times in the past week. In truth, it was not any more Ted's fault than it was Red's. They had believed they were ahead of the threat and had been proven wrong, plain and simple.
"We knew there was a target on her and we all fell short. What matters now is that we all learn a much-needed lesson from this."
The two men stood in communal silence for several minutes, staring down the foul cage with identical looks of loathing.
Dembe joined them in the space some time later with an update on the search.
"Tracks from an off-road vehicle lead from the western edge of the camp, but there's no point in chasing them on foot. We have associates bringing a pair of quads up the mountain to follow the trail downward, our best bet at this point is to find out where they are headed."
Red removed his hat once more scratching his pate with a weary sigh. "The tent?"
There was at least some good news in that regard. "We unearthed a ledger with financial details which look to point to the German's bank for this bounty."
"Have the new accountants look into it and run a trace to those accounts. I want to know precisely who set them up and who has had access the funds."
Two throats cleared politely from the edge of the cage.
The men within lifted their combined gaze to the Pepperwood Boys, who stood fidgeting on the other side of the bars.
The twins shared a brief, affirming nod, then turned back to Red.
"We're in."
"Whatever use you require," said Flint.
"Our talents are at your disposal," confirmed Ignatious.
"What of your rigid ideals?" Red asked, his demeanor a tad icy after their blatant refusal the night before.
The younger men gestured to the cage with looks of deepest disgust.
"Whoever is responsible for Rosalie being in this circumstance needs to be dealt with. You have our word, we'll do everything in our power to ensure message you wish to leave is heard loud and clear."
Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 25th, 2000
Josephine poked her head into the master suite around midnight, curious to see if Rosalie was awake.
The antique lamps were illuminating the space, showcasing the room's sole occupant in a warm, yellow glow.
Rosalie was resting against the headboard of her bed, stockinged legs tucked beneath her, still clad in the cashmere dress she had been wearing earlier. She was humming softly to herself, an array of glossy photos haloed around her person and a striking black folio in her lap. Her head lifted at the sound of Josephine politely clearing her throat.
"I'm sorry, the lights aren't keeping you up, are they?"
"No, I was already awake," Josephine assured, holding up a pair of cups and saucers. "I thought you might like some cocoa, seeing as you're up?"
Rosalie smiled brightly and patted the space next to her. "I would love that, care to sit and chat for a while?"
"Sounds lovely," came Josephine's reply, crossing the room and handing over one of the cups before setting hers on the opposite nightstand and climbing atop the mattress.
"Listen," began Rosalie, "About today, I'm so sorry for what happened-"
Josephine's shook her head, "Rosalie, you needn't apologize for what happened. You've been through a great deal, and trauma affects us all differently."
"That may be, but you were kind enough to set that up for us, and I was truthfully so looking forward to it. I'm just sorry we both didn't get to enjoy ourselves. "
She looked it, too. Josephine found herself feeling another pang of sympathy.
"You really ought to have stayed, you certainly didn't have to come back to the safehouse with me-"
"Rosalie, that is what friends do," Josephine insisted, taking the other woman's hand in hers. "I really like you, and more importantly, you make my friend happy. I would very much like for us to be friends."
"I would like that too, very much so," Rosalie admitted.
She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about Josephine just felt familiar. It was comfortable in her sphere, perhaps too much so, but Rosalie genuinely believed she could be trusted.
Her presence was soothing and thrilling in equal measure, and Rosalie found herself convinced that had their first meeting occurred in the normal course of events, she and Josephine would have gotten into a whole mess of shenanigans with Raymond and company along for the ride.
Neither woman had an abundance of close female friends, and both seemed determined not to let the opportunity for female companionship slip away.
Rosalie had Luli and Calixte, certainly, but those relationships suffered the strain of distance and business getting in the way. Even her friendship with Kate was still very cordial and business-like the majority of the time. Truthfully, she could not name a single female friend who wasn't in the game or game-adjacent. Rosalie hadn't realized she had been longing for that kind of camaraderie till Josephine was staring her in the face.
For Josephine, it was the lack of autonomy and personal choice in her own life which drew her to Rosalie. She was free and completely self-sustaining in a criminal empire of her own creation, and made no apologies for the woman she was. She wasn't demure and well-behaved like Josephine's sisters, or the society women she was often forced to socialize with. Rosalie felt real and wild, a kindred spirit Josephine had been looking for since she was a child, branded as obstinate by everyone in charge of her upbringing, molded and bullied into this people-pleasing box where she felt so woefully confined.
They had both been missing that kind of female confidant.
Thankfully, it seemed that friendship was still very much a possibility. Josephine flopped back into the pillows with a pleased grin and pointed at the items littering the bedspread.
"So, friend, what's all this?"
The assortment of photos showed the lavish interior of an immaculate condo filled to bursting with natural light.
Rosalie gestured to the stack with a permissive wave, "I'm vetting properties for a new location in the port city of Al Mukalla."
"You have homes in Yemen?" Josephine asked curiously, flipping through the portfolios, recognizing it was not one but three separate properties.
"Yes, but only in Sana'a. I need something with access to the sea. Al Mukalla is a very popular shipping route with ties to every major port in the Middle East. My clients are buzzing about that corner of the continent like flies. Roughly a third of them have been cycling solely through my locations in Saudi Arabia, UAE, Bahrian, Yemen, and Iran. I have yet to unearth why. Having a few more options will provide a bit more flex to my network's bandwidth in the area."
"Have you ever considered just buying up a hotel?" She questioned, pointing out one of the glossy albums as her favorite.
Rosalie nodded, seeing it was the property she had been drawn to as well. "I did once, but there are too many variables, too many opportunities for exposure and betrayal."
"How so?'
"My entire network exists for the purpose of keeping other criminals safely off the streets and away from each other. Lumping them all in the same building would be all but impossible and extremely dangerous. I would have to trust my clients wouldn't plot to kill other guests out of vengeance or principle, I'd have to trust in a whole army of employees as opposed to the scant handful I utilize per city. Plus, hotels are far too noticeable. They're always centrally located, often large; they stick out like a sore thumb. In the realm of safe harboring, that's bad for business. I found a much better option, instead."
Josephine grinned over her mug of cocoa, "What did you do?"
Rosalie took a long sip before answering, "I coaxed a major hotel group into letting me rent out their most expensive penthouses regularly for my own clientele for a cut of the profits. Raymond helped me negotiate a higher stake in that play several months ago; now I have penthouses with that group and all their competitors across the globe."
Josephine smirked, "Of course he would, the greedy old fox. Speaking of our mutual acquaintance, please tell me Dembe's still with him? He's such a sweet young man."
"But of course, one doesn't come without the other." Rosalie grinned deviously, "I haven't told you about the day Dembe and I met, have I?"
Her audience gasped, "No! Tell me. How did it happen? Was it eventful? "
"If, by eventful, you mean I made him chase me across the whole of South America for a month before pulling a knife on his boss, then yeah, it was pretty eventful. Poor Dembe was utterly appalled by my tactics."
Another mischievous laugh rang out through the room as Josephine settled in beneath the blankets, and eagerly awaiting the tale. "Tell me everything!'
Hours later, Cedric came to relieve Haskell from his watch on the second floor. The two shared a polite nod, the exchange silent except for their muffled footsteps hitting the carpet and the enormous yawn which fell from Haskell's lips.
All was quiet in the sixth arrondissement. Their security had picked up no known threats, nothing out of the ordinary. All was well for now.
Cedric spared a glance inside the master bedroom, noting one of the lights was still on.
Slipping inside, he made his way to the nightstand only to find two people in the bed instead of one.
Rosalie and Josephine had fallen asleep on their sides, both facing the middle of the bed.
The sight made Cedric smile softly to himself.
A cacophony of photos lay strewn amongst the blankets along with the coveted folio, which he carefully gathered into a stack and set on Rosalie's nightstand.
He pulled a pair of light blankets from the nearby linen closet and draped one over each of them in turn, then turned out the light and stealthily made his exit.
Overlook Safehouse - Palmira, Colombia - February 25th, 2000
It was creeping past midnight in Colombia, and the safehouse felt silent and still as the grave.
Final plans and strategies had been set in motion, the battalion of vehicles were fueled and waiting, surveillance lookouts were already placed at the cartel's boundary.
The only other occupants still awake were the Pepperwoods, who were busy mixing dangerous chemicals in home's basement.
Everyone's bags were packed and ready to go, as they wouldn't be returning to the safehouse once the attack was finished. Dembe and Teddy had arranged separate flights out of the country for the whole group. The only ones heading to Paris with their usual group would be the Lilets and Lita.
Raymond was still seated at the empty dining room table which had been maneuvered into the home's office, contemplating his next moves between sips of bourbon and turning the satellite phone over and over in hand.
He should call Rosalie.
He wanted to call her.
Raymond longed to hear the soft, warm sound of her voice, to listen greedily as she assured him all was still right in their world.
...But all was not right.
They were still being hunted, and Rosalie was at the top of the German's list.
It was this knowledge which kept him from giving in to the need to dial her number.
Rosalie had told him, at the very beginning of their romantic relationship, that she did not fear the danger which came with being close to him.
She did not fear it, but Raymond did.
Red had been thinking about the precariousness of Rosalie's existence since they found the photograph. The German had managed to get within feet of her mere days after being rescued.
How could she possibly want this? She who was so vibrant and free and unencumbered by the truths which Raymond had to live with, how could she ever want this life?
How could she ever want him?
It was Rosalie's connection to Red which put her in danger. Harboring him put the target on her back. For as long as they were together, everywhere she turned, her life would be in mortal danger.
"You know she's waiting for you."
Of course, it was Dembe.
The younger man stood leaning against the door frame, clad in a clean white t-shirt and dark pajama bottoms. His face held a knowing expression which Red found a tad irksome in his present state.
"I should let her go, Dembe."
The truth was like a blazing knife to Red's chest. It burned white hot, trickling outward to fill his gut with a nauseous churning feeling that felt horribly, hideously wrong. He knew what he should do, but the very idea sent pain searing
"What do you mean?" Dembe frowned, obviously confused.
"I should give Rosalie a way out, as I've done for my other loyal associates."
"Rosalie has never been your associate, Raymond."
Kate appeared beside Dembe, also in her pajamas, to hold Red with a shrewd gaze.
Raymond shook his head heavily, "She deserves better than this; I'm going to buy her out and give her a new identity. She can have a normal life."
The interlopers shared a confused glance. Dembe gestured for Kate to step inside and closed the door behind them before turning his attention back to Raymond.
"You're just going to push her out? You realize Rosalie won't stand for such a thing."
Red poured himself another three fingers of bourbon, bringing the heavy crystal to his lips for a long, slow sip. He hissed at the steady warmth which spread through his veins, bloodshot eyes turning to Dembe with a look of miserable resignation.
"Dembe, you know better than anyone what could have happened to Rosalie if we hadn't found her. And for all our caution, the German now knows exactly where she is. His people got close enough to take a picture of her with Josephine. They were feet away," he snarled, "We have no clue who they were or where they've run off to, not a single lead to follow. I'm not willing to continue putting her at risk. As it is, I'm already going to have to answer to Florian as to why Rosalie was allowed to be taken."
Kate strode in and snatched the glass and half-empty bottle before he could drink any more. His protests were silenced with a scathing look, "You're mounting an attack on one of the most lethal cartels in Colombia in less than four hours. You need your senses clear. If you get killed because you went into the fight drunk, this will all have been for nothing."
The rebuttal brought Raymond back to his center, pointedly reminding him there were a great many people relying on him to stay alive.
"I'm not drunk," he lied smoothly.
"You seem to think you can coax Rosalie Øllegaard into walking away from a multi-billion dollar criminal empire." She countered, "You'd have to be drunk to believe something so stupid."
A disgruntled pout formed on Red's features, which Kate duly ignored, "Keep him here," she pointed a commanding finger at Dembe before exiting the room.
The door closed behind her with a snap, and the room's remaining occupants stared thoughtfully at one another.
Dembe broke the silence first, "What brought this about, Raymond?"
"I told you," Red snapped, "That damn photo. He was right behind us, close enough to kill if he had truly wished it. His associates could easily have taken Rosalie the other night. They're three steps ahead and have been since this all started!"
He pushed the table with an almighty shove, nearly upending it in his anger.
"I'm sure the associates we sent to follow his trail in the four-wheelers came up empty handed too?"
Dembe's lips pursed at this, having already received the confirmation of that very fact.
Red was breathing heavy, back bowing so his hands could steady him against the edge of the tabletop. "I can't keep her safe, Dembe."
A comforting hand came to rest on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "Rosalie is not Elizabeth, Raymond. She's not a little girl whom you can hide from the rest of the world in the name of her protection. Rosalie is too clever, too wilful to lead a life of quiet existence."
Raymond flopped into his seat once more, shaking his head obstinately. "She's young. There's still time for her to walk away."
This was categorically untrue, and perhaps most importantly, about as likely to happen as Raymond joining the clergy.
"Rosalie may be younger than you," Dembe affirmed, "but we both know her spirit, like mine, is much older. She knows precisely what she wants. I believe you are afraid because you know that what she wants is you, and your life comes with an unavoidable level of danger. Despite your best efforts, you will never be able to completely protect her from all the dangers of our world."
Raymond looked quizzically at him, "How can you say that with such ease? Is this not who I am? Is this not what I do? I take up the sins of others to keep them sheltered from what hunts them. All I have to do is...is walk away."
Dembe could hear the agony in Red's voice clear as day. "Where would that leave you, Raymond? Alone in the dark once again without a soul to call your own. You've done this too many times before. Don't make the same mistake again."
"You know as well as I that I was meant to live Raymond Reddington's life alone. I was never meant to have her."
Kate had re-entered the room with a banana iv bag and a caustic glare.
"Raymond, you took this life upon yourself to protect the people you loved, and you have lived this life alone because of it. Rosalie has changed that. She wants to continue to change that."
She tugged at his rolled-up sleeve despite his grumbling, finding a viable vein and setting the iv in seconds. "Keep that in until we leave," she warned, adding, "and nobody said because you're a wanted criminal you're not worthy of a woman's love. Don't be an idiot. I'm going back to bed."
The two men watched her go, a pregnant silence swallowing the room until Red spoke his mind once more.
"Neither of you have been in this business long enough to realize love is by far the most dangerous thing in this world. It takes away your control and makes you..." he chewed the inside of his cheek, "Helpless. Helpless to the fate of someone else. I'm bringing her into a world where that fate is bleak at best."
Dembe actually chuckled, "You are so eager to make an angel out of Rosalie, I think you sometimes forget that she was a criminal before she met you. Seeing her in the light of a lover, you've forgotten she pulled multiple switchblades on you when you first met, you forget her empire was forged long before you became involved. She brought herself into this world, and found she belonged in it."
Red fidgeted with the iv, his hand getting swatted away by an entirely unfooled Dembe Zuma. He met the man's baleful eyes with a look of distinct annoyance.
"You don't change Rosalie or somehow tarnish her by being with her, Raymond. She shines brighter with you. Rosalie possesses the warmth and understanding you so desperately need, but carries a ruthless cunning in lockstep, which can protect her from what lurks in the night. She belongs here, with you." He placed his hand upon Red's shoulder once more, "You need someone of your own to ensure you make it to the other side of this task...someone to love, to care, to remind you there is always something good and right in this world. She gives you so much, Raymond; why would you deny her?"
"Because I can't-" Raymond scrubbed his face with his hands, "I can't lose her, Dembe. I can't live this life knowing my proximity could bring about her demise, and it's paramount that I keep living this life. I can't breathe when she's around, I can't think straight. How can I focus on being Raymond Reddington when all I want to do is to run away with her to some remote island where she would be safe?"
Dembe's eyebrows pulled upward, sympathy pouring from his being as he came to understand Red's concerns.
"I once told you I believe it is my life's work to save your soul. I still believe so, and I am convinced this is one of those moments. You could spend the rest of your days without Rosalie and I do not doubt they would be misery for you both. Or, you could accept the good thing that has come into your life, and permit yourself to be happy because of it."
Raymond's head remained bowed, "The things I've done, Dembe, I often wonder if I'm supposed to be happy."
Dembe reclined in his seat, folding his hands in his lap and choosing his words carefully.
"What we believe we deserve and what the universe decides to give are often incongruous. I take comfort in the belief that the universe would not put Rosalie in your path only to cruelly rip her away."
Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 25th, 2000
Rosalie and Josephine woke late the next morning to a bit of commotion downstairs.
Dark brown eyes popped blearily open at the loud thump of what sounded like a chair being toppled on the first floor.
Rosalie was awake, holding a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture.
Josephine's eyes widened do dinner plates when Rosalie slipped a firearm from somewhere at the head of the bed, removing the safety with a minute click before climbing over her and stealthily creeping up to the door.
Cedric swung the portal wide the moment she reached it, scaring the hell out of both women. He peered questioningly down at the Colt in Rosalie's hands until she restored the safety and lowered the barrel to the floor.
"There were noises," she said defensively, setting the gun safely on a nearby table.
"Oui," confirmed Cedric, "I have a little surprise for you both. Go, shower and dress in something comfortable, they will be here in thirty minutes."
The pair shared a curious look as he left, then scurried to their ensuites, eager to find out what exactly awaited them downstairs.
The surprise arrived thirty minutes later, on the dot.
Rosalie and Josephine were seated in the kitchen sharing breakfast when a whole troop of spa technicians and beauticians filed into the spacious living room carrying spa tables and bags upon bags whose contents the women could only speculate over.
"Ladies," Cedric brought up the rear and made a sweeping gesture to the team of women behind him, "Seeing as your plans at La Cathèdrale did not go as expected yesterday, Haskell and I took the liberty of bringing La Cathèdrale to you."
He turned to Rosalie in particular, "We spent the night vetting each and every one. They've been searched, questioned, and have proven themselves trustworthy. They were brought to the safehouse in an unmarked vehicle by your own transport team utilizing decoys to ensure they weren't followed. You are completely safe, soeur."
A bright, approving smile pulled at Josephine's lips as she watched the exchange.
Rosalie visibly relaxed at this reassurance, the gratitude she felt bubbling over until she leapt from her seat and engulfed Cedric in a fierce embrace.
His low chuckle could be heard from her hairline, where he placed an affectionate peck before setting her back on her feet. "Enjoy yourselves. Haskell and I will be down the hall should you need anything."
The group of spa employees quickly went about setting up their space and readying their clients.
The furniture in the living room had already been shuffled about so there was a large open space in its center big enough for the two spa tables to stand side by side. The curtains were drawn, darkening the room to a more relaxing ambiance. The technicians lit a number of tall, cylindrical candles and got a crackling fire started in the magnificent white marble hearth to warm the space before turning on Rosalie and Josephine.
The two were coaxed into fluffy white towels and pre-warmed robes to ward off any chill, then guided to their respective beds for the first treatment in a long list that would occupy most of the day.
Cartel Campground - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 25th, 2000
It was still dark when Rosalie's extraction teams moved in, surrounding the Los Reyes Sagrados campground with battle-hardened mercenaries.
The halcones and sicarios dotting the clearing were fast asleep save for a scant few early risers moving back and forth in the glow of metal barrels filled with crackling flames.
Red stood at the edge of the clearing, his black suit hiding him easily from view.
He needn't have bothered, it had been child's play to reach this point.
Only two lookouts had been left on the road leading to the compound. Both were sniped from a distance, ensuring their arrival went completely unnoticed. The radios Ted and Dembe looted from the bodies had remained dead silent the entire trek into the dense undergrowth surrounding the campsite.
They waited with bated breath for Baz and Ted to confirm they had met at the opposite side of the clearing before locking the place down.
Red was utilizing the time to scan the array of sleeping figures littering the clearing, intend on locating the man with the catch pole.
"Across the clearing, at your two."
It was 'Shard's graveled rumble which broke the quiet, the sound far too low to be heard by anyone but the people beside him.
Raymond followed his direction, eyes landing on a glinting bald head heavy with sleep, resting on heavily tattooed arms draped over a crude bit piece of metal ending in a long loop of cable.
That feeling of justifiable anger which had carried him through endless encounters since he had become Raymond Reddington coursed through Red, palpable and white-hot.
Calixte placed a gentle hand to Raymond's shoulder, scowling at the sicario as well. "I look forward to seeing what you do with him," she commented in a thoughtful whisper, returning her hand to her weapon as Dembe drew near. "You'll tell me if you encounter any members with bite marks?"
The request just managed to register through Raymond's mounting fury. "Lita?" he asked, recalling their search for persons with bite marks had to do with the young girl they had taken under their wing.
Both Lilets nodded stoically, keeping keen eyes on the clearing.
"I'll be sure to send them your way."
Red could understand the hatred the pair felt, knowing that small child had only managed to survive her stint with Los Reyes Sagrados by literally fighting tooth and nail to escape. Destroying the men who took her from the safety of Rosalie's arms would provide them with no small measure of vindictive pleasure.
Dembe reached his spot beside Raymond, handing him the stolen radio, which had been tuned to a frequency which allowed them to speak only with Baz.
"We're ready, boss." Came the low murmur, assuring him the others across the clearing were in place and ready to move in.
"Engage."
The first shots rang out, taking down the handful of guards that were moving about and rousing the rest of the camp into action.
They were fighting a losing battle though, as one by one the cartel members realized they were already surrounded.
Some fought back, firing blindly into the darkness surrounding them without a prayer of catching the hostiles creeping toward them in the dark.
Stray bullets caught their comrades, dropping in limp heaps here and there throughout the camp.
Raymond kept his eyes trained on the bald man, who had scramble to his feet after the first round echoed through the valley. He had tracked him from left to right, watching his futile search for an escape with vengeful enjoyment.
The task of hunting his prey proved more difficult once Red and his men broke the treeline.
They were now visible, and potential targets for the sicarios who hadn't forgotten their weapons in their panic.
Halcones and the like continued to drop left and right, the sound of rapid gunfire broken only by their terrorized shouts and the muffled clink of spent magazines hitting the forest floor.
An armed sicario suddenly leapt out from a nearby tent, catching a bullet to his temple and splattering Red's suit with blood.
He wiped his face quickly with a clean sleeve, jerking his head for Dembe to continue their press forward.
Unfortunately, he had lost sight of the man with the catch pole in the exchange.
Raymond could not worry about him just now. The others had their orders, he had to trust they would not let the man slip away.
The valley where the cartel had been hiding was red with blood by late morning.
The sounds of men shouting had grown fainter and fainter as the minutes passed.
At the southernmost edge of the campground, Raymond and Dembe leapt over a toppled tent to assist in cornering the last of the remaining sicarios.
One managed to break free, only to be rammed with the butt of Red's gun. The man staggered, trying to take a swing at Dembe, who sidestepped him in time for Raymond to land two solid punches to his skull.
He dropped to their feet and a bullet soon followed, ensuring he would not be able to retaliate.
A half dozen cartel members had been backed into a tight circle of mercenaries, swinging and fighting to create a way out.
Taking a closer look at them, Red recognized a pair of the thugs carried tattered bite marks on their arms.
He commanded the men to capture the two and dispose of the rest.
Quick, decisive shots rang out as Red turned toward the new Capo's tent, gesturing for the men to round up the remaining captives and bring them there.
The scant few sicarios were dragged into the enclosure, tied together and forced to kneel before the man in the hat.
Their erstwhile leader lay dead in front of them, his blood leeching out to stain the woven rug beneath them.
Red was sitting casually in a folding canvas chair across from the ragged bunch, sipping a glass of some kind of grain alcohol he had unearthed in a nearby chest. As Baz walked into the tent with the last beaten and bruised man. Recognizing the bald sicario he had been looking for, Raymond clapped his hands together and rose from the chair.
"Well, gentlemen, we are here today to do a little investigative work."
He smirked at them and pulled a polaroid of Lita from his vest pocket. "From what I've heard, quite a few of you have had the pleasure of meeting this darling little spitfire."
Raymond held her photo up to each man's face. "Your cartel murdered this little girl's entire family in cold blood. You've butchered and maimed women and children all over this country."
"In my world, there are rules which must be adhered to. A certain code of ethics, if you will."
His gaze lifted when Richard and Calixte stepped into the tent, the vindictive expectation written clearly on their faces.
"You robbed this child of her parents." Red snarled, "You quite literally ripped her from the arms of another; the only safe haven she could manage in the putrid hell where you were keeping her."
A steadying breath forced its way into his lungs, keeping his fury in check for when he truly needed it.
"The cruelty and cowardice such an act requires is...unfathomable."
The two men shuddered, flinching away from Reddington as he paced back and forth in front of them.
Finally, he stopped and leaned into their terrified faces.
"Unfortunately for you, there are some people here whom I'm sure have conjured up something just as unfathomable for you."
Rough hands surged forward and cut the pair from the others, dragging them kicking and screaming from the tent with the Lilets following hand-in-hand.
Of the two remaining sicarios, neither could bring themselves to look at Reddington.
He waited for several long moments, lulling them into a false sense of security before the one on his right finally summoned the courage to speak.
"Wha-What do you want with us?"
Raymond did not answer. In less than a blink, he lifted his firearm and fired off one shot directly into the other man's forehead.
"He was the one to abduct her from the bar." Red gestured carelessly toward the body which had toppled into a heap beside the Capo.
Ruching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe away the renewed blood spatter, all the while never taking his eyes off the man before him.
"And then there was one." He sighed, "Tell me, do you even know why you're here? Do you have the slightest idea why I've kicked down your door and destroyed every last member of this cartel?"
"The woman," responded the sicario, a droplet of blood mingling with the sweat on his brow to trickle down his face.
Raymond reached forward and wiped away the crimson rivulet, "Her name is Rosalie."
"I- I am sorry..."
"Oh I don't think you're sorry," Red informed him, "Not yet, anyway."
He pulled another photograph from his pocket, this one of him and Rosalie dancing on a rooftop in Osaka.
"You recognize her, don't you."
It wasn't a question.
"Si, si, I did not know!"
"You took my companion and used a catch pole to nearly strangle her. A crude contraption used to subdue wild animals." The anger burned Red inside out, consuming all thought as he finally surrendered himself to the ungodly fury he felt.
He could perfectly recall the slender column of her neck striped with deep purple bruising, eyes overly bright with tears.
"You took a beautiful woman and strung her about like a rabid dog." Raymond snarled, snatching the other man by the collar and hoisting him bodily from the ground. "How many times did you drag her by her delicate throat? I've seen the ligature marks for myself. I saw the scratches where she clawed at the cable, desperate for a single breath. Suffocating."
Red's fist closed about his throat, cutting off the man's air supply.
"Have mercy!" The sicario wheezed, kicking and flailing to get away.
"Mercy?' hissed Raymond, his anger rising to a terrifying crescendo. "Where was your mercy when Rosalie was in your care?"
The man in his grasp was starting to turn blue.
"Where was your mercy then? Where was a drop of human decency when she screamed for the child you wrenched from her arms? When she fought to keep those other women and children safe from your brethren, where was your humanity? TELL ME!"
Raymond dropped him to the ground, ignoring his sputtering gasps as he bent to grab the several feet of cable he had brought specifically for this occasion.
"Mercy." He mocked, throwing the cable over his shoulder and gesturing for his men to bring the sicario along. "I have no mercy for monsters like you."
They stepped out into the morning fog, making their way to a tall tree at the edge of the campground where a lone, dilapidated fencepost stood.
Raymond looked up to its heavy branches, selecting the one directly above the fencepost and slinging the cable over it.
He fashioned a slip-knot similar to the one on the catch pole.
"N-no!" The sicario began to fight in earnest, but there was no escaping this fate.
Two of the mercenaries brought him to his feet, slipping the cord around his throat and pulling it snug.
Red snapped his fingers and the cable was pulled taut, hoisting his captive into the air.
"Don't worry," he called bracingly to the suffocating man, "I'm not one for hangings." He reached out to grab the flailing feet and guide them to the very top of the fencepost. The solid platform allowed the other man to relieve the pressure on his larynx, coughing and sputtering as he caught his breath. The ties which bound his wrists were also cut, giving him a better chance at steadying himself.
Meanwhile, the cable was secured in place, ensuring he could not leave the post without risking strangulation.
Raymond observed the proceedings with satisfaction, nodding his approval to his men and gesturing that they should head back to the vehicles.
Dembe was the only one who remained behind.
The sicario looked down from his perch with a look of absolute horror.
Red blinked up at him, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Karma's a mean voyeuristic old broad," he commiserated, wiping a bit of dirt from the man's shoes, "She's going to see you suffocate from exhaustion or smoke inhalation, whichever comes first. After that, you'll be charred to a crisp. For your sake, I hope it happens in that precise order."
He turned his back on the precariously balanced sicario, who immediately began bellowing and shouting for help.
Richard and Calixte caught up with him on the way to the vehicles, both breathing heavy but looking satisfied.
"I take it you extracted your revenge?" He asked, sparing a curious glance for the two metal oil drums situated in the center of Flint's launchpad for the upcoming blaze.
If he looked to closely, he could see the barrels moving.
"Indeed," Calixte purred dangerously, looping her arm through his. "Thank you for ensuring they ended up in our diligent care."
"Knock when we're thirty minutes out," instructed Red, stepping into the office at the rear of the plane and closing the door behind him.
Much to Kate and Dembe's disapproval, he wanted to be alone.
Raymond caught his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were a volatile, angry green. The fury in his bones created a palpable aura, haloing him in red to match the blood splattering him head to toe.
Red for the blood he had shed.
Red for the tainted truth of who he was.
Red for the lives he could continue to take for the sake of what little he held dear.
They called him Red, but they had no idea how deep the color ran.
The desire to rid himself of the disgusting bloodstained clothing had him viciously tearing at his waistcoat and tie.
'That's mine to do...'
He could hear her in his head, clear as day. Guilt bowing his head all over again.
How dare he long for her comfort when he was the one forever putting her in harm's way.
'I can hear the cruel things you're telling yourself, Ray. This wasn't your fault.'
Raymond fought to quell the anger still churning in his gut, "I could have done more. I don't know what I'm doing, Rosalie. I don't know how to keep you safe."
'I should be here with you. I knew where your mind would wander without me to guide you out of it.'
"I don't need you to guid me out of it." Red grumbled, tossing the ruined articles of clothing into the nearby trash bin piece by piece. "I need to think. I need to figure out what to do. I can't lose you."
'I told you already,' the voice whispered in his head, 'I'm not done loving you Raymond Reddington. Never underestimate my will to come back to you.'
"It's not your will I'm worried about," he confided, wishing the room wasn't empty, that it was her touch cleaning the blood from his hands, her voice washing over him, not merely his own exhausted mind playing tricks on him.
Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 25th, 2000
Rosalie was admiring her nails some time later, pleased as punch to have them back to their normal state. The nail tech had meticulously repaired the chipped and broken areas, leaving them pristine one more and coated in a muted mauve polish. She had also done a peculiar kind of kelp wrap to Rosalie's hands to help quickly repair the various scratches and bruises there.
After seeing the rest of Rosalie's body, the team agreed they would be doing the treatment from head to toe.
Cedric barged into the room amidst her ruminating, pressing a series of buttons on a handful of remotes directed at the wall.
An oil painting above the fireplace rose on electronic hinges, tucking out of sight to reveal a large television screen which turned on at its reveal. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I thought you would want to see this."
A news channel was showing dual screen images of two separate wildfires shedding thick plumes of black smoke into the air.
"Ced?" Rosalie questioned, reading the text at the bottom of the screen which stated:
Brutal drug war reaches tipping point as inferno engulfs two cartel strongholds.
"Turn it up," she breathed, "What are they saying?"
'Authorities are unsure as of yet which rival is responsible for the devastation. It is estimated that the whole of Los Reyes Sagrados was wiped out in the attack, judging by bodies on the ground and what investigators can see from the air. The Colombian minister for police noted in a press conference moments ago that the culprit or culprits went so far as to torch the syndicate's previous campground as well, further solidifying their belief that this was the doings of a rival cartel.'
Rosalie shook her head, "That's a lie."
Josephine was at her side, staring confusedly up at the carnage on the screen. "Who do you think did it?"
"That," Rosalie pointed at the screen, "That is all Raymond. Aside from the fire, that would be the handiwork of my friends Flint and Iggy"
"Pepperwoods?" Cedric asked conversationally, looking upon the results with obvious approval.
Josephine's eyes swiveled between the two very pleased fugitives and the television screen which showed the campground's smoldering wreckage.
"You're a bloodthirsty bunch," she commented thoughtfully, then grinned, "I kind of like it."
Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 26th, 2000
It was half past two when Raymond Reddington stepped over the threshold of Rosalie's apartment in Paris.
He silently gestured for her team to show the Lilets and Lita where they could get settled, having flown with him to meet with Rosalie about Lita's future.
Ted and Dembe set about doing a quick perimeter check before catching some much-needed sleep.
Horace received polite but questioning nods from both men, as his presence in the foyer did not go unnoticed.
Red blatantly ignored him, turning his attention instead to Cedric, who waved him toward the home's spacious living room.
"It was a very good idea, having Josephine come to stay with her. The two of them really hit it off." He confided under his breath, leading the way through the first floor.
Haskell sat at a stool in the nearby kitchen, holding out a hand for Raymond to shake as he passed by.
They crossed into the living room seconds later, happening upon a most unexpected scene.
There on the plush sectional were Rosalie and Josephine, sound asleep amidst the glow of some old black-and-white film. The pair had fallen asleep wedged in the corner of the sofa, spa-style under-eye patches still on their faces.
Josephine had her head propped up on one palm, her dark locks twisted into a messy chignon atop her head and her legs tucked tightly beneath her.
The nook this created seemed to have become the perfect place for Rosalie to lay her head.
She was snuggled into Josephine's shoulder every bit as tightly as she usually was with Raymond.
He was only a little bit jealous.
In truth, the adorable sight made his chest ache painfully and pleasantly at the same time. It was a relief to know Rosalie and Josephine had not merely tolerated one another, but had become genuinely friendly in the past week.
Unable to hold himself in check any longer, Raymond slipped his arms around Rosalie and lifted her from her cocoon of blankets.
Josephine shifted about, but did not wake when her companion was moved.
Rosalie too was out, until Raymond had already ascended the first flight of stairs.
"You're home."
That warm, perfect voice washed over Red like a soothing balm.
"I'm home," he agreed, brushing the tip of his nose along the soft expanse of her cheek.
Rosalie sighed happily, a yawn overtaking her as they stepped through the door to the master suite.
"I missed you."
"I missed you too, little dove."
Unbeknownst to Red, Josephine watched from the door while he gingerly placed Rosalie's huddled figure beneath the blankets.
Gentle fingertips peeled the patches from beneath her eyes, flicking them in the nearby trash so he could gather her close to him.
His lips peppered her cheeks with affection, whispering words of adoration and longing against her dewy skin, soothing all that frustration and concern he'd held pent up inside during her absence.
"You love her."
Raymond's head whipped around to see Josephine very much awake and haloed in the hallway's yellow light. He pressed a finger to his lips, insisting she keep her voice down.
He tucked the blankets about Rosalie's shoulders, running a soothing hand over her curls and kissing her once more on the forehead before turning on his heel and exiting the room with Josephine in tow.
She grasped Raymond's arm the moment he was in reach and led him down the flights of steps back to the first floor, where they wouldn't be heard.
"Josephine, I can't thank you e-" he began, but his thank-you was interrupted by Josephine's small fist punching his arm very hard.
"Ouch." He grumbled, reaching up to catch her fist as she went to hit him again. "What in Sam Hill was that for?"
"I cannot believe you left Rosalie here and didn't tell her what you were up to," she hissed, "Do you realize she spent this entire week worrying if you were dead or alive?"
"What?" Red found this rather confusing, Rosalie had known full well what his plans were. Perhaps she didn't know the exact timeline of everything that would happen, but she had known the gist.
"You left," Josephine smacked him, "in the dead of night," she walloped him again, "without a word!"
Raymond snatched both of her wrists in one hand, ensuring she couldn't launch another attack. "I didn't want her to be a potential target. I needed her off that continent, out of the cartel's sphere of influence."
Josephine remained unyielding, "Removing her from the cartel's sphere of influence also removed her from yours, and you from hers. She's reeling from what happened, Raymond. You left her alone with a complete stranger, and you didn't even give her fair warning! You didn't call!"
"I dealt with the people responsible." He replied stonily, his face an unmasked snarl.
She wouldn't understand, how could she? Josephine was the cosseted princess of an elite crime family. Even if someone wanted to take them on, they would have to be every bit as powerful, and the likelihood of their success was slim to none. He had been forced to take down an entire cartel just to make waves big enough to break the surface of their world. He had taken the only option available to keep Rosalie safe.
"She loves you, you idiot."
Josephine pulled her hands from his grasp, grabbed him by the lapels and shook him, "She's kind and selfless and she loves you. Don't blow it by playing the hero all over again."
Raymond's countenance dropped guiltily, his surprise at her intuitiveness quite evident.
"How...?' He questioned, not bothering to deny that was the conclusion his mind had brought him to.
"You have the exact same look in your eyes as the day you pushed me away." The brutally honest reply left Raymond feeling exposed, and Josephine knew it, capitalizing on it. "Five years have come and gone but I have yet to forget thatface. You were right, you and I would never have worked in the long run, but Raymond, you have something real with Rosalie. She can contend with your life in a way I never could. Don't make the same mistake all over again."
"Thank you for staying with her," Red changed the subject with ease, cutting her argument off at the knees. "I deeply appreciate it. Why don't you go get some rest? I'll see you in the morning."
Josephine threw her hands up in the air, her frustration complete at his blatant dismissal.
All the same, she kissed Red's cheek and made her way up the steps, calling him a variety of choice names on her way up.
Raymond took the slights in his stride, pouring himself a glass of water and checking with Dembe to ensure the location was secure so he could go to bed.
Once their safety was confirmed, Red made it one step up the stairs before he was confronted by an irate Horace Asim Jabare, who had placed himself as a barricade in the center of the staircase leading to the second floor.
"I told you this would happen."
His tone was accusing and a tad petulant, not at all something Red was willing to entertain at half past two in the morning.
"I told you she was going to get hurt because of her association with you."
"Get out of my way, Horace, before I decide shooting you would be well worth Rosalie's initial frustration with me."
He didn't budge. "Did you hear me? I said I knew this would happen. What have you done to fix the problem?"
"Seeing as you're about as loyal as a hired hand, I won't be discussing the finer nuances of our strategy for the German with you."
"I'm loyal to her, not to you." Horace snapped, unflinching when Red took another step forward.
Raymond blinked placidly, unable to bring himself to give a damn about any of it at the moment. "Your 'loyalty' comes at the price of convenience. If it's not convenient for you to be on her side, you turn tail and run back to the Corsicans to be treated as a second-tier mall cop.
Horace stepped aside with but one last querulous glare.
"If you loved her, truly loved her, you would leave her be. If you gave a damn about Rosalie at all, you would walk away. You know it. I know it. This will continue to happen until one day you get her k-"
Raymond pulled his firearm, pointing the muzzle directly between Horace's eyes without a drop of hesitation.
"Finish that sentence, and I will happily redecorate the staircase with the remnants of your skull."
"Horace."
It was Cedric's crisp, authoritative voice which broke the hate-fueled standoff occurring on the stairs.
"Downstairs. Now."
Red moved past them without a word, crossing the second floor with the intent of sequestering himself inside the master suite with Rosalie.
She was still asleep, nestled on her side beneath the pillows, her right hand extended to rest upon his side of the bed, waiting.
He wasted no time in stripping down to his boxers and an undershirt and slipping beneath the layers of warm blankets.
Within seconds, Rosalie was cuddled around him, gathering him in a tight, loving embrace which soothed the newly torn pieces of his soul with each breath she took.
Raymond didn't sleep all night, too busy memorizing the way her slender frame felt in his arms, how her petite frame radiated warmth, the way she burrowed into his hold.
He gripped her tightly, burying his face in the hollow of her neck and greedily inhaling the scent of her.
Red had nearly lost her, and in truth, he was no longer certain he could keep Rosalie safe. Nor was he certain he possessed the strength it took to let her go.
He couldn't argue Horace's point. He should walk away, if he truly loved her.
And God, if he didn't love her.
If this wasn't love, Raymond was certain such an emotion couldn't exist. What he felt for Rosalie consumed him, from the tips of his toes to the very top of his head. He knew it in the depths of him, that the very best of himself would waste away for want of the woman in his arms.
Red watched each gentle breath fill her lungs, the movement pulling the top of the oversized button down she wore, showing him more of that small slip of skin along her sternum.
He placed a kiss to the spot, feeling her steady heartbeat against his lips. Raymond kissed an entire trail upher chest to the long line of her neck, still marred with purple and yellow bruising, to whisper fervently against her cheek.
"...I do love you."
A/N: Thanks Sunny for your help with the German 3, I edited at 2 a.m. and looks like I missed a few things. doesn't allow me to respond to messages if you don't have an account :(
