Author's Note:

Hi Sunny, I can't answer your comments because you don't have a account setup :( thank you for the help with the German in the last chapter, though!


Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - February 26th, 2000

Rosalie shifted beneath the blankets, her hand creeping through the sea of warm cotton in search of her bed partner.

The space beside her was surprisingly cold and empty.

Raymond had remained wrapped tightly around her throughout the night, to the extent that Rosalie was forced to wake him to let her go when she needed to use the loo. This made little difference, however, as the moment she was back within reach, he had clung to her like a second skin.

Truthfully, Rosalie hadn't minded in the slightest. After being without him for a number of days, it was immensely comforting to have Raymond back where he belonged.

What had pulled him from their bed at such an early hour, though, remained a mystery.

A groan left her throat as Rosalie arose with a yawn and stretched away the tightness in her limbs. A quick look around the quiet suite confirmed she was alone, so she stood and wandered into the en-suite for a long bath.

The large black and white marble tub stood waiting in the center of the room, a suddenly daunting prospect now Rosalie came to think of it.

"I can do this," she breathed steadily in and out, fighting the rising panic which told her she was not safe alone in the bath. "Come on Rosalie, don't be childish."

She resolutely switched on the taps and busied herself with tossing a variety of epsom salts and bubble bath into the rising water.

A glance was spared for the multitude of windows, the Paris skyline standing resolutely in the distance.

The master suite was on the third story; there was no way someone could breach the space without their multitudes of hidden security catching them.

The only vulnerable entry point was the door, which the intruders would still have to pass the home's locked entryway and overtake a small army of security guards to reach.

All this did little to soothe Rosalie's rapidly fraying nerves.

Surely it wouldn't hurt to check?

She tiptoed in her towel to the suite's double doors and peaked out into the hallway, catching sight of Horace standing guard right beside the door.

He caught her tousled head peering up at him and lifted a lone, questioning brow.

"...Everything okay, Rosie?"

"Yeah," she forced her lips into a smile, "Just- just checking."

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured, bestowing a rare, comforting smirk.

"Thanks."

The door closed with a snap, and with the knowledge that her security was still very much on guard outside, she scurried into the bath. Her towel fell in a crumpled heap on the floor beside the tub as she ascended the marble steps.

She resolutely lowered herself into the piping hot bath with a hiss of satisfaction, forcing herself to continue taking deep, calming breaths.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'm fine."

The mantra continued until Rosalie was finally able to will herself into relaxation, her head tilting back to rest against the lip of the tub while the near-scalding water did its work.

This worked for a few minutes, allowing a much-needed respite until the sound of the bedroom door opening drew her from her comfortable solitude.

Rosalie had just reached for the handgun she'd stashed in her bath robe when Raymond came striding into the room.

"Have you seen my-?"

The question came to a stuttering halt at the sight of Rosalie submerged in the steamy bath, her shoulders just peaking above the bubbled surface, her right hand draped unsuspectingly over the opposite side of the bath.

A knowing smile graced her features, recognizing she had caught his undivided attention. The handgun was eased back into her robe pocket, her companion none the wiser. "Everything alright, love?"

"Yeah...I'm heading out for a while." Red peered thoughtfully at the tub, his distraction complete. "Though I'd much, much rather be joining you."

Rosalie dimpled up at him, her cheeks flushing a pleasant pink as she watched him saunter over to the sinks and pluck his watch from the countertop. "Why don't you? Whatever you're up to can surely wait a little while longer..."

She let the notion linger, hoping he would take the invitation and join her. It had been weeks since they'd had a moment of intimacy alone together, and she found herself missing his presence immensely.

"I haven't gotten to hold you close in so long, it's felt like ages..."

"You and I were wrapped up together all last night," Raymond teased, a roguish smiling overtaking him with ease. He found himself moving toward the tub in spite of his good intentions, every corner of him longing for closer proximity.

"That doesn't count," she pouted prettily, a casual finger swirled along the water's surface as he inched nearer, "You were wrapped around me, not the other way around."

She lifted dark, coquettish eyes to meet Red's, who looked for all the world as though he were emitting the kind of whine only dogs could hear.

"I want to," he gritted, eyeing her submerged body with blatant longing, "God knows I want to."

"Then why don't you take that suit off and join me?"

Rosalie shifted to her knees, resting her arms against the side of the tub and batting her eyelashes up at him as a playful incentive.

A deep chuckle resonated in Red's chest as he reached to cup her cheek, brushing her curls to one side to reveal more of her beauty to his avid gaze.

Her head listed into his touch, exposing the whole of her back to view.

The array of bruises and scratches along her spine were still very much present, though they had rapidly progressed out of the deep purple stage and into a semi-healed mottled yellow in Raymond's time away. The sight was a vicious reminder of what had happened, smothering his amorousness in a matter of seconds.

Rosalie unfortunately caught the change in his demeanor, shrinking back into the water with a self-conscious frown.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, knowing how much it bothered her. He'd merely been caught by surprise; he'd nearly forgotten, for a moment, what had happened to bring them to this. "If it's any consolation, it's unconsciously done."

"I know, but that doesn't make it anymore bearable." She leaned back against the side of the tub, further hiding her back from view. A protective hand came up to fidget at her neckline, trying to hide the marks there too.

Raymond knelt beside the tub, shoving down those feelings of guilt and forcing a smile to his lips. "We can revisit this another time, when there aren't guests and a literal child in the house."

A wry smirk greeted the suggestion, "I'm going to hold you to that."

He brushed Rosalie's hand away from her neck, revealing the half-healed bruises. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss to the tender expanse and another to her cheek.

She kissed him back, her soft lips pressing to his stubbled cheek to send a rush of warmth coursing through him.

Their eyes met and held, both looking for something in the other they couldn't seem to find.

"I'll see you later?" He offered, hoping to soothe the rift between them.

Rosalie nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. "I'll be here."

Raymond rose to his feet, a metallic clunk sounding from the floor when his foot accidentally nudged Rosalie's robe against the tub. His brows furrowed, and amidst an assortment of protesting noises from his companion, he bent to rifle through the robe's pockets.

His fingers closed about the handle of a firearm, knowing sight unseen that the safety was off and a bullet was already loaded in the chamber.

Tumultuous green eyes lifted to consider Rosalie, who shrank further into the bathtub, her cheeks ablaze with shame when he lifted the object for her to see.

The Colt 1911 usually stowed at the small of her back sat firmly in his grasp, the barrel aimed safely at the wall.

The look Raymond gave her was somewhere between guilt and betrayal.

"Do you truly feel so unsafe with me, little dove?"

Rosalie vigorously shook her head, "No. No, that's not it at all."

She reached out to ease the gun from his hand, switching on the safety and setting it on a nearby shelf.

The unpleasant silence settled like a brick wall between them, blocking off any hope for a swift resolution.

"It's just- I'm not..." Rosalie tried to summon the fortitude to tell him the truth, dark gray eyes blinking imploringly up at him. Her courage failed her when she found only volatility in Raymond's gaze. "I'm just not ready to talk about it, Ray."

"I see." Red turned on his heel and left the ensuite, an unreasonably vicious anger coursing through his every nerve ending.

"Raymond wait...Don't go, please?"

The call had him hesitating at the door's threshold. It felt wrong going anywhere when things felt so precarious between them.

He had no right to demand she tell him why she felt it necessary to carry a gun beside the tub, but Red had believed they were long past the point of withholding their troubles from one another. The fact of the matter, for him, was that Rosalie now felt unsafe in her own homes. Because of what had happened to her on his watch, she couldn't bring herself to trust him or their security to protect her while she partook in the simple comfort of drawing a bath.

She no longer trusted him enough to be vulnerable with him.

Red spared a glance over his shoulder, catching Rosalie unconsciously rubbing at her neck once more, her head heavy with despair.

An unpleasant pang in his gut pushed him over the threshold and into the hallway.

Dembe waited expectantly outside the suite, standing upright when he appeared.

"I'm going alone."

Raymond held out an expectant hand, into which Dembe placed a pair of car keys.

The pair descended the stairs in tandem, halting in the home's entryway where Red donned his coat and hat.

"You are sure-?"

"I'm sure." He interrupted, cramming the keys into his pocket. "Kate left the box in the trunk?"

Dembe gave a singular nod. "I do not think it wise for you to be alone, Raymond."

"I didn't ask for your opinion on whether or not I need a babysitter."

A lone eyebrow lifted in response, Dembe's stoic demeanor entirely unaffected by the caustic retort.

"I'll be fine." Red pulled the gloves from his coat pockets and shoved his hands inside, "I need time to sort through all of this, to decide where we go from here. You want to help? Watch over Rosalie as you would me."

He exited the home without another word, slamming the door behind him with a deafening bang.


Familiar voices could be heard floors below, alerting Rosalie to the presence of newcomers in her home.

After Raymond left, the bath seemed cavernous and unappealing, so she quickly washed and got ready for the multitude of engagements she had planned for that day.

Rosalie stepped out of the master closet minutes later dressed in a white long-sleeved blouse and high-waisted slacks in a deep maroon, and had just set about putting on her jewelry when a polite knock sounded from the doorway, drawing her attention to Dembe's broad figure filling the doorframe.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" She beamed, fixing the back to her earring then crossing the room and drawing him into warm embrace.

Dembe reciprocated the affection, hugging her tightly for a long moment before finally letting go. "Could I have a word before we join the others?"

"Of course," Rosalie gestured to the velvet settee opposite them, "Is everything alright, sweetheart?"

"Everything is fine," he assured, taking the offered seat and patting the spot beside him. "I trust your stay with Josephine was pleasant?"

Rosalie eased into the seat beside him with a bright smile. "She is a charming, delightful person. It's easy to see why she and Raymond got on so well. I found her companionship these past few days to be immensely comforting."

Dembe grinned, "That is good. Raymond had hoped the two of you would become friendly."

Rosalie looked back at the door to the master suite, a frown puckering her features as an anomaly settled into place.

"Wait, why aren't you with him?"

Dembe's hands fidgeted, his thumbs circling each other anxiously as he seemed to war with himself on what to do.

"...Dembe?" An icy feeling crawled into Rosalie's stomach, sending her leaping to her feet. "Dembe, where did he go?"

He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture, "I do not know, Rosalie."

"What? How do you of all people not know where he is?"

Dembe's voice was perfectly calm, "He left without divulging his destination a short while ago, but I have no reason to believe he will not be back by this evening." He reached out to take Rosalie's hand and pull her back to the settee. "He had only planned to be gone for the day, I do not see why that would change now. He also has a burner, and there are protocols in place should he not turn up."

Rosalie squinted down at the carpet, "That's hardly a comfort. If you aren't worried about where he's gone, then why are you nervous?"

They had been friends long enough to know each other's tells. Dembe's fidgeting thumbs were enough to tell her something was on his mind, a burden he wished to share with her.

He lifted his head, his face etched with concern, "Raymond is struggling to move forward from what happened with Los Reyes Sagrados. I do not believe he has encountered such a blatant attack on someone close to him in many years. I am not concerned for his whereabouts, but he has retreated from my influence entirely. You are his partner and his romantic interest; you have his ear and his confidence in a way I do not..."

"What does he need me to do?"

There was no question Rosalie would do anything to help Raymond, as would Dembe, which was why the latter was divulging the truth about the demon Red was currently fighting.

"Raymond needs to be reminded you are in this with him. He will not ask it of you; I fear he will in fact do the exact opposite and try to push you away in the name of your safety. You must not allow him to do so."

"Push me away?" Rosalie balked, "I don't understand...What on earth happened while you were in Colombia?"

"The cartel was decimated, but the fact of the matter is the German is still at large. Raymond has begun to realize he cannot guarantee your safety in his sphere."

"I don't need him to guarantee my safety," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, "What can I do to make him see that?"

Dembe placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, "All you can do is remain steadfast. Show him you aren't going anywhere, despite the danger your association with him presents. It will take some time, but he will come to see reason."

A heavy silence swallowed the room, interrupted only by the steady click of a nearby mantle clock.

"There is one other topic I wish to discuss with you."

Rosalie silently gestured for him to continue, her mind still preoccupied with what to do about Raymond.

"I couldn't help but overhear about the incident at La Catèdral," he began, his tone apologetic.

"Oh that," she mumbled, "It was nothing, really. I'm fine now."

This did nothing to convince Dembe, who tread carefully into the difficult conversation he believed he and Rosalie needed to have.

"Rosalie, PTSD is a common ailment for many criminals-"

"Oh I don't have PTSD," she demurred with a careless wave of her hand, "It wasn't that bad Dembe, really. I just got a little anxious, that's all."

Dembe reached out to take her hand in his own, the small appendage disappearing within his much larger ones. "I know what the symptoms are, Rosalie, having experienced them myself. What happened at La Cathèdral, at the ensuite in Colombia? Those are early indicators of Post-Traumatic Stress."

"I-I really don't want to talk about all that..."

Her fingers fidgeted in his grasp, anxiety coursing through her system once again.

"It feels as though your mind goes hurtling back to the night you were taken," he explained gently, "You relive the event and all the emotions that came along with it. This is why it only seems to happen when you're left alone in or near a bathroom or locker room, just as you were when the cartel took you."

Rosalie grew very quiet, her eyes falling to her shoes, all but confirming Dembe had hit the nail on the head.

"We have all dealt with our share of trauma, Rosalie. Myself, Raymond, even Kate."

"Kate..." Rosalie recalled with ease what likely traumatized Kate Kaplan, "Because of what happened to Annie?"

Dembe nodded, confirming her suspicions, "Our line of work makes trauma-related stress an unfortunately common occurrence."

She shook her head once more, "I'm quite alright though, Dembe. It's not that bad, I promise-"

"Perhaps," he carefully interrupted, "However, nothing could be hurt by seeking counsel. We all want to see you healthy and happy."

Rosalie felt her cheeks grow hot, a gnawing feeling of insecurity bubbling in her chest. Did Raymond tell Dembe about the gun she'd been hiding in her robe? Did he think there was something wrong with her?

"You all think I need to see a shrink?"

Dembe gave the hand he held a reassuring squeeze, "Rosalie, we have all sought help at one time or another. Raymond, Kate, and I actually see the same psychologist, Dr. Cuthbert Tiller." He reached to pull a business card from his jacket, tucking it safely in Rosalie's palm. "He works exclusively with persons in the criminal underground, and I am confident he could help you, too."

This came as a complete surprise to Rosalie, as she could not recall any of them mentioning therapy, not even Raymond. She couldn't pinpoint any unfamiliar faces in her homes to put the name to, either. "Wait, what? You all go to this man?"

Dembe nodded again, "I have been in talk therapy since I was a young man. Having been held captive by some of the world's most ruthless cartels for years, when Raymond found me, he insisted I do so."

Rosalie's eyebrows were still somewhere near her hairline, "I can't believe I didn't notice."

Dembe shrugged, "At first it was two, three times a week. Now, as the years have gone on, I see him only once every month or so. What we each discuss with Dr. Tiller is deeply personal; certainly not the kinds of topics any of us tend to discuss out in the open."

"...And Raymond? Does he still go?"

She couldn't help a small titter when Dembe tilted his head back and forth, "You know Raymond, he's not particularly adept at minding his own health, physically or mentally. I only agreed to see Dr. Tiller after Raymond agreed to seek counseling as well. I could usually badger him into going once a month; but since the two of you have become close, he has found a myriad of excuses not to go."

The pair shared knowing smiles, laughter bubbling forth at the thought.

"I'm his safe harbor, you're his spiritual advisor," Rosalie beamed, the knowledge warming her considerably, "And Kate is his confessor. No wonder he doesn't feel the need to go."

"Be that as it may, but you should give it a try." Dembe prodded the card in her upturned palm, "I took the liberty of setting your initial appointment for tomorrow, early evening. If Dr. Tiller agrees that you are in perfect mental health, then you should feel free to tell me you told me so, and never see the man again."

"I don't know..."

Rosalie could hear the trepidation in her own voice, unsure as to whether or not she could in fact do this.

Dembe's soothing timbre washed over her once more, quieting those concerns with a few kind words.

"You are one of my closest friends, Rosalie. Your health and happiness are of utmost importance. You do so much for those in your care, but I fear you do not save a drop of that compassion for yourself, even when you are the one most in need of it."

A guilty flush stained Rosalie's cheeks, knowing there was more than a grain of truth to what he said.

He continued, "If you will not take the consultation for your own sake, do it for those of us who love you and wish to see you well."

She leaned sideways, resting her head on Dembe's shoulder with a heavy sigh. "Alright Dembe, I'll take the consult," a chaste kiss was pressed to his cheek, "But only 'cause you said you loved me..."

Dembe let out a deep, throaty chuckle and rumpled her hair in response. "I do. We all do."


Minutes later, Rosalie stepped into the kitchen to find most of the household tucking into their breakfasts.

Josephine was making tea with Cedric at the stove, pouring extra cups for Haskell, Ted, and Horace, who were all guarding the home's exterior.

Richard and Calixte were seated at the island with Lita between them, sharing a plate piled high with warm pastries and fresh fruit.

Lita leapt out of her seat at Rosalie's appearance and ran straight into her outstretched arms. She hugged her tightly round the middle, chattering away in rapid Spanish about their exciting flight aboard Raymond's jet and the fleet of fancy cars which greeted them on the tarmac.

Dembe sidled past the pair with a knowing smile, patting Lita's curls before taking a seat at the island.

Rosalie caught Richard and Calixte's combined gaze, the former giving a subtle tilt of his head in the direction of the library.

She nodded her understanding and covertly passed Lita off to Dembe so she could follow the Lilets down the lengthy hallway to the secluded room.

Once the door closed behind them, Calixte threw her arms around Rosalie and pulled her into a rib-cracking hug. "We're so relieved you're safe, cherie."

Rosalie reciprocated the embrace, reaching past Calixte to drag 'Shard into the fold as well.

His long arms wrapped around the two and squeezed them tightly, cradling their little trio in a firm hold.

"Thank you," Rosalie breathed, keeping the couple in the huddle for several long moments, "Thank you for showing up when I needed you most, for helping Raymond and the others. There are no words to express my gratitude."

She released them, stopping to cup each of their cheeks and truly look at them for the first time.

The intervening years had been kind to the Lilets, the only markings of the passage of time were a pair of scarcely-visible smile lines and the beginnings of a few soft crinkles at the corners of their eyes.

"We'll always be there when you're in need, sweetling." Richard assured, wrapping his arm around his wife, "That's what friends are for."

Calixte leaned into his hold, at the same time reaching out to take Rosalie's hand in hers, placing an affectionate kiss to its surface. "Speaking of Mr. Reddington and the rest of your little band of fugitives..."

'Shard flashed a knowing grin, "We're delighted to see you've found a semblance of family on the run. It warms our hearts to know you're not out there alone in our world."

Rosalie felt a pleasant warmth flood her cheeks, "Oh yes, I daresay I've found myself in the company of some truly honorable thieves."

The threesome laughed to themselves and ambled further into the library's sitting area, the Lilets taking one of the ornate velvet settee's while Rosalie moved to draw the sheers.

The morning sun was sending vibrant pink rays through the room's soaring arched windows to cast a beautiful rosy hue over its deep mahogany shelves and their meticulously curated contents. The effect was stunning, but also nearly blinding.

Once the bright daylight was being diffused by the gossamer curtains, Rosalie took a seat at the settee opposite Richard and Calixte, who looked inexplicably nervous the moment she sat down.

"What?" She asked, taking a brief look around the room in search of the source of their discomfort, "Is there something wrong?"

"No!' Blurted Calixte, eyes widening when she heard how loud the response had come out, "Sorry. No, everything is fine."

'Shard jumped in, "We merely wanted to discuss a rather important proposition with you."

Rosalie gestured for them to go on.

"It's Lita," began Richard in a calm, genial voice. "I'm sure by now you are aware of what happened to her family?"

Rosalie held her surprise admirably, "Yes. Unfortunately, Dembe did confirm there were no remaining survivors, even in her extended family. Why do you ask?"

The Lilets shared a significant look, then turned back to Rosalie.

"Have you given any thought as to what will be done for Lita?"

Rosalie's brow puckered with scrutiny as she trade questioning glances with Richard and Calixte.

"Well, I haven't had a moment to hammer out all the details yet, but I was planning to see to her upbringing and education myself," Rosalie confided, adding, "Raymond is actually well-versed in this arena, as is Dembe."

The pair opposite her looked nothing short of crestfallen.

"Oh..."

"Unless there's another avenue you believe we can pursue?" Rosalie offered, waiting for one of them to give up the goods. There was obviously more behind this conversation than she had bargained for.

"We want to adopt her!" Calixte blurted, all poise gone at the prospect of Lita's future being decided without her.

A desperation which Rosalie had never heard before colored her friend's voice, underscoring how very important this was to Richard and Calixte.

"Wait...what?" Rosalie's head swiveled back and forth between the two, eyes silently questioning if this was true.

"We've bonded with her, Rosalie." Richard took Calixte's hand in his, a guarded hopefulness creeping into his debonaire facade, "While you were unconscious and when Reddington brought you here, we were the ones watching over Lita. For the past week we have spent every waking moment with this child, and well...We love her."

Rosalie's shrewd gaze had leveled on Calixte, recalling the many late nights she and her friend had stayed up discussing the social and professional intricacies of being a female fugitive. "You...You always said you wouldn't have children. You always told me your lifestyle was too dangerous for a child."

Neither Richard nor Calixte made a point to deny the claim. They both recalled the myriad of times they had uttered that very sentence in Rosalie's presence.

"So it was, when we met you," 'Shard conceded with a deferential nod, "But things have changed so much since then, Rosalie."

Calixte jumped in, "Our empire is stable. We have no real enemies or active competitors, and we can walk away at any time."

Rosalie could easily see the pair for the criminal titans they were as they laid out all of the reasons why they would be the ideal guardians for Lita.

"She is so young, Rosalie. Lita needs a proper home, a family, parents who can raise her..."

"We can give Lita the best of everything, she will want for nothing..."

"There's ample room at our abode in Baton Rouge, we have access to the best private schools in the world, wherever she wants to live, whatever she wants to do, we can provide..."

"Lita has been through hell, she needs safety and security..."

"Who better than us to raise such a child?"

Rosalie held both palms aloft, politely requesting they cease the onslaught. "What does Lita think of all this?"

"We haven't broached the subject with her yet." Calixte gripped 'Shard's hand in a white-knuckled grip, "We want to do the thing properly, Rosalie. We're prepared to go through the same vetting and placement processes any other couple looking to adopt a child would experience. Neutral party guardianship, visitations, you name it we're ready to show we are in this for the long haul."

Richard reached over, prying his wife's iron grip from his aching hand.

She relented with an apologetic grimace, which he reciprocated with a kiss to her cheek before turning his obsidian eyes back on Rosalie. "If, and only if Lita wishes to stay with us, of course."

Rosalie merely blinked back at them, her mind still racing through everything she had just been told. "You are sure?" she asked finally, turning to Calixte in particular, "Cali, I know you've quietly longed for a child, but this isn't something to be taken lightly, you're certain this is what you want?"

Calixte beamed back at her, "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Rosalie Øllegaard. I am Calixte Moreau-Lilet; what this world dares to put in my path is what is meant to be mine. As long as she wishes it, Lita will be my daughter."

'Shard looked at his wife with a profound level of love and adoration, a fierce approval and pride burning behind his gaze when he turned back to Rosalie. "You heard the woman. Lita is a Moreau-Lilet as long as she wishes to bear the name. We will love her as our own."

"Well then," Rosalie hurriedly brushed away a bit of moisture she found pooling at the corners of her eyes and pulled out a pad and paper, "Let's hammer out the details as best we can and see what Lita has to say."


Raymond and Rosalie's Secret Pied-à-terre - 4th Arrondissement Paris, France - February 26th, 2000

Raymond pulled into the underground parking structure shortly after leaving Rosalie's apartment, his mind already preoccupied with the contents of the vehicle's trunk.

Exiting the car, he grabbed the heavy parcel, slipped into the elevator and prodded the button for the penthouse.

Red hardly noticed the slow, trundling ride up the elevator shaft to the top floor as he shifted the heavy box from one arm to the other.

When the metal gate slid open to reveal the apartment's aged front door, he quickly slipped the old brass key into the lock and budged his way in.

The entryway was darker than it was the last time they had visited the abode.

The cozy glow which had inhabited the apartment back in December was notably absent. The tree with its dazzling garland and twinkling lights was gone, its ornaments and other decor packed with care in the totes occupying most of the home's coat closet. There was no fire in the hearth, leaving the air in the living space feeling stale and cold. The soaring ceiling swallowed the sound of Red's footsteps in the unearthly quiet, his companion no longer there to warm the abode with laughter.

Trying to ignore how unappealing the apartment had suddenly become, Red dumped the box on the kitchen counter and ascended the stairs in search of what he needed. Upon entering the walk-in closet in the master bedroom, he found a most unexpected sight.

Three garment bags hung on the empty side of the closet and four cardboard boxes sat nestled on the floor beneath them.

The sight took a few moments to register in Raymond's mind, unable to come to a full understanding until he noticed each box bore the initials R.Ø.

Rosalie.

He'd almost forgotten this was now their apartment.

A genuine smile tugged at his lips, recognizing this was her moving in.

Wistfully scanning the quiet room, he decided to procrastinate a bit and set about a much more enjoyable pastime.

An old record was chosen from multitudinous stacks downstairs, brushed and placed on the turntable with care. The stereo crackled into life, sending the warm, dulcet tones of a cello singing a Rostropovich prelude soaring up into the apartment's exposed rafters.

It was entirely too early to start drinking, but Raymond couldn't smother the impulse to pour a stout few fingers of scotch before idling back into the bedroom.

He found himself mechanically unpacking Rosalie's belongings, despite the break he had been considering. Something in him insisted her possessions belonged there; they were meant to occupy the closet's opposite side. She belonged there, with him.

Dresses and skirts in a variety of luxurious fabrics were hung in neat rows across from his array of suits, dress shirts, and ties. Raymond recognized a handful of the garments as Rosalie's personal favorites, the thought that she had chosen to keep those favored items at their apartment managed to warm the place a bit.

The first box beneath the row of now-empty garment bags was packed full with shoeboxes. The majority held Rosalie's favored leather pumps in a variety of hues. A couple pairs of short suede boots were in the mix as well, while the bottom of the stack contained one pair of tall, stylish rain boots and a pair of knee-high boots in a dark hickory leather. He unpacked each pair, arranging them in neat rows inside the closet's glass-fronted cabinets.

Opening the second box, he found stacks of plush cashmere ranging from a rainbow of cozy sweaters and cardigans to a duplicate of her favorite robe in a striking midnight blue. He placed the tops neatly in the cedar-lined drawers built into the far end of the closet and hung her robe alongside his own in the linen closet.

The third box held outerwear for a variety of seasons, pea coats, raincoats, and the like, which were all hung in the entryway closet alongside Raymond's own coats.

The last box showcased a variety of silk garments ranging from sleepwear to lingerie which Raymond found himself admiring in spite of himself. The blouses and dresses were hung neatly alongside their compatriots while the tissue-wrapped parcels of nightclothes were nestled inside the drawer not already occupied by her cashmere.

All that was left in the bottom of the last box was a small rectangle in a polished mahogany, its clasp locked, denoting the likely presence of jewelry inside.

"Ah, let's put you somewhere safe, shall we?" said Red, who turned to the rear of the closet once more, strategically removing a panel in the built-in cabinetry to reveal a large safe.

The door swung wide, and a familiar black velvet sack tumbled out, spilling its contents onto the rug beneath his feet with a muffled clunk.

Raymond felt his insides give a spasm of recognition at the sight of a sleek black opium pipe in the center of the rug, its silver bowl and fittings glinting in the low light. He stood staring at the thing for several long moments before he finally bent to pick up the item and its container.

He could feel the unmistakable presence of opium pellets in the bottom of the velvet bag, calling to him like an old friend.

The pipe was quickly stashed back in the bag and shoved into the far recesses of the safe along with the mahogany box. Red hadn't used in a few years, but that didn't mean the itch was no longer present. It was best not to tempt his willpower, particularly with his already dour mood.

Out of constructive ways to procrastinate and eager to get his mind off the narcotics he had unwittingly unearthed, Raymond downed what was left in his glass and retreated back downstairs to take on the task at hand.

The home's stereo crackled and popped, signaling the record was ready to be flipped over.

He did so, setting the needle back in place and turning to the box he'd brought in from the car. A sharp pocket knife made quick work of the tape holding it closed, its lid flipped carelessly onto the kitchen countertop as the stereo started to sing out once more.

Inside the box sat a small notepad, a handful of dvd's, a portable DVD player, two manilla envelopes, a battered ledger and one plastic bag marked, 'CAUTION: Biohazard'.

Taking a seat at the countertop, Red setup the small DVD player, plugging it into the nearby outlet and loading the first of the dvd's which he knew to contain surveillance footage.

The top two pages of the notepad held a list of timestamps for each disk, allowing him to quickly scan through the videos to the sections relevant to his search. Dembe had been the one to painstakingly review and notate the findings, having taken most of their flight back from Colombia to do so, for which Raymond was grateful.

The first video was of the runway outside of Bogota. Shots of the few aircraft Dembe hadn't been able to identify filled the screen, his notes showing the flightpaths, manifests, and tail numbers available for each bird the week leading up to their arrival and the time since Rosalie's departure.

With a resigned sigh, Raymond pulled out his burner to begin making calls.

He convinced himself once he'd identified the jets and confirmed their passengers, he would be able to breathe a little easier. If the box contained enough actionable intel to make a move on the German's operation, it would negate the threat to Rosalie and himself. If he could just unearth enough information to catch the man, he wouldn't have to consider what he'd have to do to keep Rosalie safe. Everything would go back to normal, if he could just find the German.

...or at least, that's what Red told himself.


Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - Early Evening, February 26th, 2000

Hours had passed when Rosalie and the Lilets finally emerged from the library with a complete plan.

The threesome stepped out into the home's kitchen to find Josephine, Dembe, Cedric, and Lita in boisterous spirits. The space was alive with music and the sound of chopping knives, mixing bowls, and clanging pots. It seemed dinner was already underway.

Dembe had Lita boosted up on a step stool, carefully stirring the contents of a large pot while Cedric and Josephine chopped an assortment of vegetables, chattering away in rapid French and laughing merrily.

The din quietened a touch when the others arrived, the curiosity as to what had kept them hanging thick in the air.

"Cali, 'Shard, come look!" Lita called excitedly, pointing at the pot, "I made pasta, Dembe showed me!"

The couple grinned widely, wasting no time to come and observe the contents of the pot, deploring how excellent the pasta looked.

"Lita?" Rosalie called in a gentle voice, drawing the young girl's gaze from her pastime, "Would you like to come visit for a bit?"

"Si!" She called back, handing the spoon to Dembe, tugging the apron from her person and leaping off the stepstool to land in front of Rosalie.

The two laughed, the latter placing a guiding hand to Lita's shoulder and leading the way back to the library.

Once inside, Rosalie shut the door and settled once more into one of the velvet settees. She gestured to the seat beside her with a smile, waiting for Lita to sit before speaking once more.

"How are you? How are you feeling?"

Lita's feet dangled a few inches from the floor, swinging back and forth without a care. "I'm good," she said with a shrug, "I like it here. Everyone's so nice."

Rosalie beamed at this, "I'm happy to hear that. Have you been sleeping well?"

"Umm," Lita's feet stopped their swinging, "Yeah, okay I guess."

"Me too."

An unspoken understanding passed between the two, recognizing they were both existing as well as could be expected given the circumstances.

Rosalie had a sinking feeling Lita was actually handling this whole ordeal much better than she herself had been fairing.

"I wanted to talk to you," she eased into the purpose of their conversation with caution, "We need to discuss what happens now."

"What happens now?" Lita's expression remained guarded, "Do you mean...with me?"

"Yes."

Rosalie lifted her hand to rest on a stack of manilla envelopes on the coffee table in front of her, the product of the several hours spent sequestered with the Lilets. "I understand Richard and Calixte sat down with you and discussed your family."

Lita's eyes fell from the envelopes to her shoes, her lips pursed tightly together. "Yeah."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She took her hand in a gentle hold, brushing her thumb along its expanse in comforting circles. "There is nothing I can do to bring your family back to you, as much as it pains me to admit."

"What-" a small tear appeared to trickle down Lita's cheek, "What do I do now? I have no family, I have nowhere to go..."

"Oh honey," Rosalie drew her into a tight embrace, "It's going to be okay, everything's going to be okay. We aren't leaving you to fend for yourself. We're going to take care of everything."

Heavy sobs were muffled into Rosalie's shoulder as Lita came to terms with the fact that the life she'd once had and the people she had once loved were gone.

They sat there in the same attitude for several minutes, one comforting the other until they were both ready to continue. Rosalie eventually nabbed a nearby box of tissues, pulling one out to dab at Lita's cheeks. "Whatever happens next, you're in charge, okay?"

"I'm in charge?" Lita sniffled, taking the offered tissue and blowing her nose.

"Yes," she assured, "We aren't going to make any decisions without your say so."

"Okay."

Rosalie gestured toward the stack of envelopes once more, "The Lilets helped me to plot out a number of options which we thought might be acceptable, but the choice is ultimately up to you. If you don't like any of the suggestions presented, we will go back to the drawing board until you are comfortable. We also recognize that what you want or need may very well change as you get older. Just know, whatever path you choose right now, you aren't beholden to it. You will always have the option to choose differently, Lita."

Lita lifted the first manila envelope flipping open its tab to peer at the contents within. "Why are you doing this for me?"

It was a fair question. Lita had known Rosalie just inside of two weeks, and now she was stepping in to build a whole life for her.

"Because I like you, and you deserve it after everything you've been through." Rosalie stated with conviction, "Not to mention you helped me out of a very sticky spot shortly after I arrived at the cartel. I haven't forgotten your bravery that day, Lita."

Lita nodded, then seemed to steel her nerves "I- I can't stay with you guys?"

A sad little smile tugged at Rosalie's lips, "I'm afraid not, sweetling. My network is no place for a young child. As you might have noticed, my partner and I have enough trouble keeping ourselves safe. I can't bring you into such a dangerous environment."

A heavy beat of silence stretched for several moments while Lita fidgeted with her used tissue. "...and Cali?" she asked finally, "She and Richard, they're in your network too?"

Rosalie carefully schooled her features, a quiet thrill of excitement threatening to spill over. "No."

The change in Lita was instantaneous.

Her head shot up, eyes shining with the kind of guarded hopefulness Rosalie had never seen from her before. She scooted a hair closer, sliding to the edge of her seat with a look of expectation.

"No?"

Rosalie shook her head, a bright smile overtaking her without pause. "I sold the Lilets a truly spectacular entresol in Baton Rouge a couple years ago. It's a retired safehouse which they know occupy the majority of the year. They run their own criminal syndicates through the Gulf of Mexico, one in shipping, the other in black market contraband."

Lita listened with interest, her curls bouncing every time she nodded her understanding. "So they are...safe?"

The question was asked with polite curiosity, not wanting to offend.

"Yes, they are quite safe." Rosalie assured, reaching to lift the top envelope from the stack and place it in Lita's lap. "They are some of the kindest, selfless, most gentle people I know in this world, Lita. When Richard and Calixte take a shine to someone there isn't a thing they wouldn't do to help them, I can tell you from personal experience."

"I like them." Lita whispered nervously, glancing between the envelop and the woman sitting next to her. "I like them a lot."

"They like you too my dear, very much so."

"Would-"

Lita's voice failed her, her teeth worrying her bottom lip fretfully, "Would they help me? The way they helped you?"

Rosalie held her composure admirably, despite the bone-deep excitement coursing through her veins knowing Lita was hoping for the same outcome as Richard and Calixte.

"I don't have anyone else..." Lita began, but Rosalie placed a comforting hand to her cheek.

"You will always have us, sweetheart; and, if you wish it, you will always have Richard and Calixte." She tapped the envelope with one finger, "They are offering their home, their guidance and support...Everything you would expect from a family, they are willing to give to you, for as long as you wish it."

The young girl before her burst into tears.

"Really?"

Rosalie nodded, brushing her thumb soothingly along Lita's tear-streaked cheek. "Really. 'Shard and Calixte adore you, Lita, and they want to help give you a safe, happy life. If you wish to give it a shot, they are ready to take you home to Baton Rouge tomorrow. We would start with a trial period where I am your legal guardian, just to make sure this is in fact what you want. You will always have the option to change your mind."

"No," Lita sniffled, "I- I want to go with Cali and 'Shard."

Both women flinched when the door to the office burst open, both Lilets tumbling gracelessly over the threshold.

Richard and Calixte too had tears streaming down their cheeks, eyes bright with bittersweet happiness.

"Désolé sweetling," 'Shard sniffed heartily, "We couldn't bear to wait any longer."

Calixte dropped to her knees in front of Lita, cradling the young girl's face in gentle palms. "I can never replace what you've lost my doll, but I promise, you will always have a home and a family with us."


Raymond and Rosalie's Secret Pied-à-terre - 4th Arrondissement Paris, France - Late Evening, February 26th, 2000

Raymond found the bottom of the bottle of scotch around 10 pm.

Manilla folders littered the whole of the kitchen countertop, fighting for space amongst crumpled flight manifests, surveillance photos, and slips of notepad paper, all bearing new scribbles in their margins.

The further Red dug into the box of intel, the less he seemed to find.

All the flights leaving Bogota were accounted for, as were their passengers and their owners. Even the surveillance footage from outside the Gelateria where Rosalie and Josephine were photographed came up empty, as there were dozens of tourists in the vicinity brandishing cameras, none of whom were identifiable.

Raymond watched Horace's hulking figure cross the screen for the umpteenth time, tugging on his bag and intercepting the barely-discernible quartet heading back to the safehouse. Drunk though he undoubtedly was, he still found himself cycling through the box of intel in futile, maddening circles.

He should have been home hours ago.

The burner in his vest pocket had buzzed a number of times as the evening waned, confirming his absence had been noticed and Rosalie was starting to get worried.

Another guilty pang flared in Red's gut at the thought.

The safehouse was just across the Pont Marie bridge and down the Boulevard Saint-Germain. He was far too inebriated to drive, but perhaps he could walk home.

A brisk jaunt in the February chill might sober him up a touch as well.

Standing from the kitchen countertop for the first time in hours nixed the idea from Red's mind almost immediately.

The room had tilted on its axis, sending him staggering into the fridge with a dull thud.

"Hmm..." he grunted, "Definitely not, then." Once steadied, he reluctantly took a wobbly step toward the hallway leading to the master bedroom. He would not be going home tonight.

The bed would be cold and Rosalie would not be pleased, but the last thing Red needed was to be picked up by the Police Nationale for public intoxication, only to find himself being extradited to any of the myriad of countries waiting to prosecute him for far more heinous crimes.

Like a sailor below the deck of a ship on the high seas, he swayed and stumbled his way up the stairs and into the bedroom to collapse face down in a heap on the enormous mattress.

The burner in his vest pocket jangled once more, forcing Raymond to roll over with a groan and fruitlessly dig through his clothes, getting his fists caught in two incorrect pockets before finally unearthing the noisy bit of plastic.

"Hmmm?" he grunted, resuming the battle with his vest in an attempt to remove the cumbersome garment.

"She is worried. You were supposed to be back hours ago."

Dembe didn't have to elaborate as to who 'she' was.

Rosalie was looking for him.

'Why did it feel so good to know she missed him?'

"I'm not done." Red slurred, eyes snapping shut when the room spun once again. "I'm not done, and I'm in no shape to walk back, let alone drive."

"Where are you? I can pick you up."

"No, I haven't found anything useful yet. Can't go back until I have something to go off of..." Raymond finally managed to free himself from his vest, turning his attention to his shoes next.

Dembe listened to the sound of each heavy rubber sole hitting the floor and sighed, "Rosalie is concerned."

Just then, Red could hear the sound of his companion's laugh echoing on the other end, joined by Josephine's unmistakable voice merrily peppering Rosalie with questions regarding some amusing tale she must have been telling.

"Listen to that...they're thick as thieves," Raymond sighed happily, eyes half-lidded with sleep, "I did so hope they would get on well. They're so similar, but so different. I just knew Josephine would love her too."

"Raymond-"

The sound of a mighty snore cut through the request.

Dembe shook his head and hung up the call, a weary sigh leaving his lungs.

Stepping back into the kitchen, he saw Rosalie's head lift expectantly, only to drop when Dembe shook his head once more.


Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - Just past midnight, February 27th, 2000

Horace was standing guard outside the master suite.

He had watched all night as Rosalie and Dembe quietly fretted over Reddington's whereabouts. They put on a brave face for the guests in the home, smiling and laughing all through dinner and post-meal drinks; however, Horace could clearly see the concern lingering in Rosalie's eyes.

The knowledge she was still so attached to a fugitive who seemed to spare little regard for her was an unending source of frustration for Horace.

In his eyes, Reddington was an ill-fitting companion for Rosalie, and positively dangerous to the empire she had painstakingly built.

Unfortunately, Rosalie couldn't see the perils unfolding around her. The trouble she had landed herself in was quite dire indeed. Yet she seemed unable or unwilling to recognize her life was worse off for Reddington's presence in it.

Reddington brought death and destruction everywhere he went, with no regard for the collateral damage which inevitably occurred around him. He saw Rosalie's network the way the rest of the world saw it; as a commodity to be bartered, traded, and cast aside when it was no longer useful.

Horace was sure this viewpoint extended to Rosalie herself.

She was a passing fancy, a conquest to be enjoyed for as long as she allowed. The thought made him feel sick.

He knew, with the right management, her empire and subsequently her life could flourish.

Rosalie could not keep up her current pace, this, Horace knew with absolute certainty. There would come a day when she wished to take a step back from the behemoth she had created.

However, with Reddington clogging the bandwidth, she did not have the time nor the freedom to pursue the kinds of deals which would make her too big too fail, and thus give her the reprieve he knew she would one day desire.

Truthfully, Horace had thought the latest run-in with the German would clear Rosalie's mind, allowing her to see the detrimental affects of her continued alliance with such a high-profile fugitive.

Reddington was a bad habit of which Rosalie needed to be broken, for her own safety. What it would take to make her see reason, however, remained to be seen.

Ted ascended the stairs, bestowing a curt nod before retiring to his room.

Horace reciprocated the gesture, all the while thinking Teddy was every bit to blame as Reddington for what had transpired. Ted had always gotten on well with everyone and was personally responsible for repeatedly enabling Reddington and Rosalie's recklessness. In his time away, Horace had trusted Teddy to stay close and keep Rosalie safe, but he completely bungled her security and damn near got her killed in the process.

That was when Horace knew he couldn't stay away any longer. There was no telling what damage could be done by Reddington's continued presence in her life.

His ruminating was interrupted when a soft cry issued from the room he was guarding.

Not to be caught unawares, Horace turned and flung the double doors open wide in search of the disturbance.

Rosalie was curled in the center of the bed in the fetal position, the blankets wrapped around her in a constricting hold.

A feeble sound of distress could be heard from the bundle, which was fighting and thrashing to be free of the sheets.

"Rosalie."

Horace attempted to rouse her, his deep voice sending her into a further panic.

The hand he'd reached out to jostle her shoulder with was snatched back when a piercing screech rent the air.

Doors could be heard opening out in the hall, a dozen or so bare feet thundering from one side of the house to the other as Horace managed to uncover Rosalie.

He grabbed both her shoulders and shook vigorously.

The terrified scream which issued from her lungs was deafening.

Richard, Teddy, and Dembe were the first to come barreling in, the former two ramming themselves into Horace with ungodly force.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Ted bellowed, working in tandem with Monsieur Lilet to send Horace tumbling ass over end onto the floor at the foot of the bed.

Rosalie woke at the sound of them fighting, she herself falling eerily silent and scrambling back against the head of the bed.

Richard was livid. "You never shake a traumatized person from a nightmare! What in god's name were you thinking?"

"She was terrified; I couldn't get her to wake up!" Horace snapped, his tone defensive.

"Stop, all of you."

Dembe had avoided the scuffle, making a beeline toward Rosalie, who was nearly catatonic and trying desperately to fuse herself with the headboard.

She had watched in horror as the men at the end of her bed scrambled to right themselves, huffing and scowling and barking snide comments back and forth.

Calixte stood framed in the doorway alongside Josephine and Haskell. No one was quite sure when they had arrived.

Even little Lita had come to see what the commotion was about, tucking herself safely against Cali's side when the shouting men scared her.

"Leave." Dembe murmured, pointing to the threesome at the foot of the bed, "The last thing she needs is to listen to angry men bellowing at one another."

He slid onto Raymond's side of the bed, rested his back against the headboard and waited patiently for Rosalie to meet his gaze.

When she finally looked up at him with dark, terrified eyes, he smiled warmly. "Come home, Rosalie. You are safe here, I promise. It was only a dream."

The others slowly filtered out, the majority going back to their beds while Horace reluctantly went back to his post.

It took twenty minutes of Dembe and Rosalie murmuring back and forth for her finally to relax into the pillows, exhausted from the exertion.

Josephine tiptoed in the room with Ted hot on her heels fifteen minutes later, bearing warm cups of chamomile tea for the room's occupants.

She too slipped into the large bed, wriggling beneath the covers to curl up alongside Rosalie. The action had managed a giggle of amusement from her, much to the others' relief.

Ted flopped across the foot of the bed, his demeanor subdued and apologetic for his hand in the chaos which had ensued earlier.

The threesome spoke to their friend in hushed tones, purposefully keeping the conversation light and amusing for her benefit.

It was two hours later when Horace checked on them all again.

Dembe was asleep, his head tilted back on the headboard. Ted too was out, still sprawled at the foot of the bed and snoring softly.

The woman, Josephine, was resting with her head on the same pillow as Rosalie, who seemed to be the only one still awake.

She had somehow procured a burner phone and was whispering softly into the device, undoubtedly speaking to Reddington.

The knowledge sent Horace back to his post in the hall, his insides roiling with discontent once more.


Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - Late Afternoon, February 27th, 2000

The following afternoon saw Rosalie bidding farewell to Lita and the Lilets.

After their lengthy discussion the day before, Lita had chosen to move in with Richard and Calixte while Rosalie acted as her legal guardian until such a time as Lita wished to make the arrangement permanent.

The threesome loaded into an armored car shortly after lunch with a flightpath charted for Baton Rouge, taking it in turns to hug Rosalie, Dembe, and Teddy before embarking.

"I'll call you next week to see how you're settling in," Rosalie assured Lita, placing a kiss to her forehead and closing the car door. She turned and pulled Richard and Calixte into a tight hug, "If you need anything, anything at all. Don't hesitate to reach out."

The couple grinned in response, assuring her they would be in touch often.

Josephine emerged from the townhouse and tucked her arm inside Rosalie's as the car pulled away. "What a lovely little family they make."

The quip had Rosalie laughing once more, "Viens mon ami. Let's head to the market. You and I are going to enjoy one last dinner together before you have to leave. I'm thinking oysters and a few ridiculously expensive bottles of Chateau Margaux..."


Raymond and Rosalie's Secret Pied-à-terre - 4th Arrondissement Paris, France - Late Afternoon, February 27th, 2000

Red woke the following day feeling as though he had gotten into a fight with a double-decker bus. His eyes screamed in protest when the bright afternoon sun came pouring through the massive windows at the foot of the bed.

Sufficiently blinded, his hand reached out to yank open the nightstand drawer and dig through its contents in search of the remote. Once his fingers closed about the item, he aimed it blindly at the windows and clicked, sending the blackout screen rolling down the glass to shutter the room in darkness once more.

A sigh of relief expelled itself from Raymond's lungs, followed by a disgruntled groan when a nausea-inducing pain in his skull made itself known.

"That is so unpleasant," he noted shifting gingerly so his legs dangled off the side of the bed. Slowly, they lowered to the floor, feeling like lead weights as he proceeded to try and stand.

Another grunt left him as he settled onto his feet, shuffling to the ensuite to relieve himself before wandering downstairs in search of sustenance.

Raymond realized too late that he hadn't eaten so much as a bite the day before, which was probably why the alcohol had hit him so hard. He was still dressed in yesterday's clothes as well, his tie and belt haphazardly half-way undone, his intoxicated self having obviously given up the fight with the garments long ago.

Pieces of useless intel still lay scattered hither and tither over the kitchen countertop, which Red blatantly ignored in favor of digging through the fridge and pantry in search of a meal. Thankfully, the staples were always in stock, as the apartment's property manager had not been expecting him.

Fifteen minutes later, a plate full of eggs, greasy bacon, and a warm buttery croissant sat before him.

Lifting the first forkful of fluffy eggs to his mouth, Red let out a deep groan of satisfaction. A few more bites and a sip of coffee, and he was feeling much better. Tucking into his bacon, his eyes eventually wandered to the dark, battered ledger laying hidden amongst the papers. He'd completely forgotten about it in his haste to find some meaning in the flight manifests and surveillance footage.

Another long sip of blessedly hot coffee and he flipped open the ledger, scouring its contents from back to front.

Red couldn't help but snort with laughter at some the ledger descriptions, finding not a drop of caution or tact among them. Each line would be enough to put both parties in prison should authorities ever unearth its whereabouts.

Line items such as 'Soborno- Oficial Rodriguez, cocaine transport.' and 'Asesinato- Chavo Lopez for Emiliano Hernandez.' littered the page, showcasing all manner of bribes and hits the cartel had completed in their course of business.

The book was chock-full of incriminating evidence, the majority beginning with the word 'secuestro' or, abduction.

A flare of recognition ignited in Red's chest as he flipped through the pages for February, starting at every transport and kidnapping entry from their arrival to the end of last year when an entry appeared at the top of a page marked Deciembre 1999.

'Secuestro y Parto - Rubia americana, 170cm en compañía de tres hombres. En Palmiro la segunda semana de Febrero.'

Raymond squinted at the page, his rusty Spanish stiltedly translating the text. "Rubia...that means blonde. A blonde American 170 cm tall, Rosalie's 5'7"...in the company of three men, that could be us..." His stomach rolled unpleasantly, "In Palmira the second week of February..."

He had been right, the German had known exactly where they'd be and when.

Red continued to scour the entry, finding it had been made shortly before New Years. It must have been the only actionable intel the German had. If he'd been able to find them beforehand, this far ahead of an entry wouldn't have been necessary.

The knowledge provided a small amount of reassurance. Knowing that aside from this colossal screw up, they were staying several steps ahead of the German...Red could work with that. They would need to be much more careful, keeping everyone but themselves and Edward blind to their movements, but that was doable.

Raymond felt his dour mood lighten dramatically.

They could do this.

He could keep Rosalie safe. With this intel and a bit more caution, they would be fine.

Red actually leapt out of his seat when he read the last bit of the entry, where a neat scribble held banking transfer information followed by the monicker he had been looking for.

'El Alemán'...the German.

Quickly patting his pockets, he realized the burner was nowhere to be found.

Raymond took the stairs two at a time, hurtling into the bedroom to find the device laying unassumingly in the middle of the bed. He grabbed it and flipped it open, bypassing the notifications which had popped up overnight and punching the number for his banking contact in London.

"Oliver!"

The jovial greeting rang out when the other man answered, ready for whatever Red was about to throw at him.

"How are Shelley and the kids?...Excellent...Excellent...While I have you, I have a bit of banking information I need you to trace for me. We must be discreet, but the sooner the better."

Once Oliver was on the money trail, Raymond decided to shower and shave. If the intel was viable, he felt he could return to the safehouse with the good news.

His hangover waned by the moment between the hot water and Red's own excitement at finally having a lead.

After his shower, he found himself checking the burner for any missed calls.

To his surprise there was a little envelope in one of the corners.

He and Dembe did not leave voicemails as a rule, and so Raymond assumed it must be from Oliver despite the fact the phone hadn't even rang.

A few minutes of cycling through the menus, fighting with the automated system and quietly cussing his lack of technological expertise, Red finally reached the voicemail menu.

The robotic voice told him he had one unplayed messaged from 3:38 AM.

3:38? In the morning?

Red felt his spirits droop a touch. It couldn't possibly be Oliver, he had just found the ledger this afternoon.

Prodding the requisite button, he waited on tenterhooks to see what the message was.

"Hey..."

Raymond froze when Rosalie's unmistakable voice filtered warmly through the speaker.

"I don't know where you've run off to, or what mischief you've landed yourself in...but I miss you."

His knees automatically lowered him to the mattress's edge, every corner of him focused on the sound of that voice.

"The bed isn't the same without you in it..."

He smiled, catching the rustle of sheets and soft snoring in the background.

"Dembe, Teddy, and Josie are all in here with me, but I find myself painfully aware of how empty it feels when you aren't here. I would kill for one of your stories to lull me to sleep. All I've done for the past two hours is stare at the ceiling and wonder if you're okay."

A drop of guilt landed in his stomach like a lead weight, yet was immediately wiped away in the next breath.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Luli and I went to Roatan for spring break?"

Raymond grinned and laid back, his head nestling into the plush pillows. "No."

He didn't know what made him whisper back. Perhaps it was the longing for proximity which seemed as much a part of him as his own name these days. Or maybe it was the loneliness which had already begun its slow creep into his psyche in Rosalie's absence. Either could be responsible for his willingness to converse with the inanimate voice echoing through the phone.

"Well, stop me if you've heard it..."

An amused titter accompanied her joke, bringing another wide grin to Red's face.

"We spent two weeks learning how to scuba dive, and the last day of our trip we did our last adventure: a night dive at 60 feet, just off the reef. I didn't tell Luli at the time, but I was terrified. Of all the places I didn't want to be at night, the ocean was probably the top of that list, but she was so excited, I couldn't bring myself to back out. So there I was, decked out in my gear and jumping off the back of the little dive boat we had chartered for the trip, just as the sun began to fall beneath the horizon. The sky was amber and this shocking pink, and I was silently thanking every deity known to man that I hadn't eaten dinner beforehand..."

Her audience was chuckling in spite of himself.

"We descended below the surface and the sun eventually set, leaving us in an inky blue blackness that still makes my skin prickle just thinking about it...It was a new moon, so it was even darker than it would normally have been. All I could see was the four-foot circle cast by my flashlight. The dive wasn't much to write home about in my mind, a few octopi, crustaceans, etc...Then, at the end of the dive, the dive master lead us to an open stretch of sandy bottom and motioned for us to turn off our lights. Keep in mind, this was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, but one by one, the three of us capped our lamps and the water descended into complete darkness..."

He could hear the memory in her voice, how frightening it must have been to be so far below the surface in black water.

"I swear, I've never seen a blackness like it. There was no sense of distance or depth, you had no idea what was up or down, and all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing...I grew more panicky by the second, quietly wondering if I had drifted away with the current never to be seen again..."

Raymond smiled when he heard the change in her voice.

"Oh, but then..."

He could tell her eyes had closed, recalling the memory exactly as it occurred so she could relate it in exquisite detail.

"Out of the blackness emerged these teeny tiny specks of light, no bigger than the head of a pin. The Hondurans call the phenomenon 'The String of Pearls.' They're actually these microscopic little shrimps called ostrocods, which can only be seen at depth on dark nights when there's no moon. Deep beneath the surface, they glow like stars to attract a mate, too small to touch, but certainly bright enough to see. The light they cast is just enough to illuminate the person beside you. For me, it was Lu. I could see her, but everything else was blackness."

Rosalie took a deep breath, the emotion in her voice cutting Raymond to his core.

"The sea at night can be a terrifying place; but suspended there in a galaxy of stars as far as the eye could see, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed."

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the incredible beauty of what she described, his imagination coming up short to what must have been a truly magnificent sight.

"There's darkness in all of us Raymond, even the so-called "best" of us. You and I know better than anyone how deep that darkness can really run, how chilling it can truly feel. Yet no matter how all-encompassing that darkness becomes, we all have our little ostracods, our own tiny specks of light which take the darkness and change it into something beautiful."

His breath hitched, the sincerity in her words stirring something inside him which Red had long believed to no longer exist.

"I've never seen our life together as something cold, dark, or frightening. Even now, when I think of our life together, I see those lights. I see that magnificent underwater galaxy just bursting with stars. Our world can be messy and unpredictable. It can make us fear for what could be out there waiting in the dark. But-" a watery laugh cascaded from the earpiece, "Raymond, when I look beside me and all I can see is you, I never feel frightened, unsafe, or alone. Quite the contrary, my love...I feel like I'm home."

Raymond had been rendered speechless by her declaration. He was barely able to breathe, let alone move.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...Come home, Raymond. We might not know what's waiting for us in the dark, but whatever it may be, we'll handle it together." She laughed softly, "I-"

The words died in her throat, her mind seeming to catch up with what her mouth had wanted to say.

"I told you the night they took me; don't be a noble sod. I don't want you to fight this alone. If you're worrying for my safety, please don't. As long as I can see you next to me, I'll be okay Raymond, I promise. Just come home, love."

The message ended with a soft click, leaving Raymond flat on the bed with the heels of his hands pressed tightly to his brow, eyes stinging with moisture.

What the hell was he doing hiding out here?

The sound of Rosalie's voice pleading with him to come home brought Red crashing back to earth with tremendous force.

There was something precious waiting for him, if he'd just get out of his own damn head.

Without another thought, he stood and strode into the closet, hurriedly pulling out a clean suit so he could get back to the safehouse.


Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - Early Evening, February 27th, 2000

After dinner that evening, it was time for Josephine and Haskell to be on their way. Dr. Tiller had arrived a half hour earlier, and was just finishing up an appointment with Dembe before it was Rosalie's turn to visit.

Haskell had packed their bags, allowing his charge to spend her remaining time in the townhouse making plans with her new companion. He found it more than a little amusing at how well the two seemed to hit it off, and he hadn't truly seen Josephine this at ease with a female friend in the entire time he had known her.

Rosalie was more than a little reticent to say goodbye.

"You're sure you can't stay one more night?"

Josephine watched Haskell load her bags into the vehicle with a frown. "I wish I could, but I promised my father I would be home in time for dinner on Sunday. Tell Raymond goodbye for me, won't you?"

"If he ever comes home..." Rosalie tried to hide it, but she was starting to worry.

"I am sure he is just blowing off steam," Josephine assured, slipping into her winter coat, "Call me Friday? I'll be dying to know where you are all off to next."

A bright smile lit Rosalie's face, "Of course. Teddy gave you my contact information, oui?"

"Oui, oui. Adieu, ma belle." Josephine threw her arms around Rosalie, hugging her tightly and swaying back and forth on the spot. "Faites-moi savoir quand votre idiot trouve le chemin de la maison."

Rosalie laughed and shook her head, leaning in to kiss both of Josephine's cheeks before finally letting her go.

"Did she just call me your fool?"

The familiar voice issued from the foot of the townhome's stone steps, where Red stood observing the exchange with unguarded affection.

"Raymond!" Rosalie leapt from the steps straight into his outstretched arms, engulfing him in a warm embrace and peppering his cheeks with kisses.

Josephine watched the two's reunion with deepest fondness, noting how Raymond's taut frame relaxed completely into Rosalie's hold, how his hands clung to her body like a lifeline. They were fools in love, and the knowledge made Josephine's heart swell with a fierce approval.

She and Haskell descended the steps to say their final goodbyes, reluctantly forcing the pair to part.

"Remember what I said. Don't be an idiot."

The sentiment was whispered in Raymond's ear when Josephine hugged him, a knowing smirk overtaking her features as she released him.

"It was wonderful to see you again," Red countered, leaving the jab unaddressed.

"It was a joy to meet your Rosalie," she replied in kind, "I'm thrilled to say I have a new friend. Call me whenever you are on the continent, I'll be eager to meet up with you both."

The women bumped cheeks once more, then Josephine boarded the vehicle. Both she and her security waved as the engine roared into life, and within seconds they were off down the Boulevard Sain-Germain.

Raymond and Rosalie turned shyly toward one another.

The latter took her companion's hand gently in her own and led him into the safety of the townhouse.

In the quiet sanctuary of the entryway, Red pulled Rosalie close, arms snaking around her waist to bring her tight against him.

The action eased a breathy sigh from her lungs, her body relaxing immediately into his touch.

He kissed her properly for the first time since she'd been taken, deepening the contact the moment their lips met.

Rosalie's hands clung to his shoulders, one easing a path up the nape of his neck to swirl teasing fingertips along the base of his scalp.

The kiss grew more passionate by the second, setting the space between them on fire.

Raymond readily moved to tease Rosalie's bottom lip with his tongue, pleading for entrance.

An impossibly soft sigh left Rosalie's throat, her mouth opening without hesitation.

Red groaned in response, taking what she offered and backing them both into one of the entry's darker alcoves.

Hands moved in tandem, clinging to one another, smoothing along every available expanse to provide the affection and reassurance they both knew they needed.

Rosalie mewed when a warm, calloused palm eased up her shirt to cradle the small of her back. She cupped the back of Red's head in her own palm, guiding his mouth back to hers in another searing kiss before they finally were forced to break for air.

"Not to ruin the mood, but honey you look like hell...Where have you been?"

Raymond chuckled but refused to let her go, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck until she couldn't help but laugh as well.

"I was digging through intel, and I think I've found a way to get to the German."

Rosalie's head snapped upward with dark eyes wide, her kiss-swollen lips parted in a soft 'o', "What did you find? Did you...did you get my message?"

"I did," Red confirmed with a grin, grasping her chin and guiding her mouth back to his. "We can talk all about ostracods later..."

"Ms. Øllegaard-oh, and Mr. Reddington."

Dr. Tiller stood at the entrance to the hidden space, a sly smile capable of being seen through his short snowy beard.

He had obviously finished his session with Dembe and had gone in search of his new patient, ultimately happening upon the heated make-out session occurring in the alcove.

"Long time, no see..."

The man covertly tilted his head in Rosalie's direction, recognizing the likely reason behind why he hadn't seen Red in months.

The couple froze, still thoroughly entangled.

Raymond still held Rosalie's chin in hand, the other remained lodged halfway up the back of her shirt. His short hair was thoroughly tousled from her hands running through it, and he was relatively certain there was lipstick on his mouth as well.

Rosalie had not fared any better. Her long curls were also in a riotous state, and her skin had taken on a luminescent blush after getting caught red-handed.

Dr. Tiller took pity on them, directing his attention back to Rosalie. "Are you ready, my dear?"

Red looked confusedly down at his companion, his face asking the necessary question.

"I...I promised Dembe," she confided, looking fretfully between the two. "I have a meeting with Dr. Tiller for a consultation, just- With everything that happened with the cartel, Dembe insisted I should-"

A warm smile tugged at Red's lips, "It's alright, little dove. Dembe is right to suggest you seek an appointment. Go with Dr. Tiller, I'll be here when you're finished."

The way the endearment made her eyes light up threatened to take Raymond to his knees then and there.

"I'll be happy to see you while I'm here as well, Raymond."

A wry look was cast in Tiller's direction, a lone, condescending brow arching toward the heavens. "Gee, can we really?"

Rosalie smacked Red's arm lightly, "Be nice."

To Be Continued...