A/N: To the lovely readers who are conflicted over the RedxLizxAnne situation, firstly, you are not alone, I am 100% with you, believe me! Secondly, I just want to assure you that I am forever a Lizzington shipper, this fic is a Lizzington fic, & it will have a happy ending for Lizzington! The challenge I set for myself when writing this was concluding Red & Anne's relationship in a realistic, mature, & peaceful fashion (considering the crappy source material I have to work with) and getting Red & Liz to a better place in their relationship. You guys are the ones to tell me if I achieved that, but please remember I tried my best :) Regardless, I hope you can enjoy my take on this & the next chapter will be up soon if you're interested!

Chapter 2

The cabin is one of Red's more secluded safe houses, tucked away in the woods of Kansas. He's never been more thankful for his paranoid nature and Dembe's limited questioning of his excessive planning. He secured this safe house specifically for a situation like this.

And he'd hoped to god they would never need it.

Red doesn't leave Anne's side, even after the hired doctor treats her leg. It's all very straightforward; he removes the bullet, thoroughly cleans and closes the wound, hooks up an IV, gets her settled, and declares her stable and on the mend. He tells Red that she was lucky. The bullet missed any major arteries, didn't shatter or fragment, and came out cleanly. She'll have a scar and nothing more.

But this knowledge doesn't ease Red's guilt.

(Because even if all she had sustained on his behalf was a paper cut, he would still never forgive himself for her suffering.)

Although he doesn't leave her side, even once he is assured that Anne will be fine, Red is able to gradually relax his intense focus on her healing body and start noticing other things about their little safe house in the woods.

The warm, pleasing tones of the dark, wooden walls and ceiling.

The softness of the dark blue rug underfoot.

The scent of the doctor's cologne as he breezes in and out of the room.

Dembe's habit of opening the curtains in the morning and turning on the lamps in the evening.

And the fact that Lizzie hasn't left.

She comes in and out of the bedroom as often as Dembe does, bringing fresh bandages and changes of clothes, washed sheets and bottles of water, helping as much as she can and never speaking.

(And as he sits at Anne's side, talking softly with her when she's awake and watching over her when she's asleep, Red thinks more and more about how Lizzie doesn't have to be here, but she still stays. Quiet. Respectful. Invisible.)

On their third day in the cabin, with Anne healing nicely and getting plenty of rest, Red stops Dembe as he opens the curtains for the day.

"Dembe?" he murmurs, and his friend pauses beside his armchair at Anne's bedside. "Where's Elizabeth?"

Dembe crouches next to him, keeping his voice low to avoid waking a dozing Anne. "She is outside."

Red frowns. "Outside?"

"Yes, Elizabeth always sits outside on the bench in the yard when she is not helping tend to Anne."

This confuses Red but he nods anyway, knowing it is past time to stop ignoring her. "Will you sit with Anne for a few minutes? I should go talk to her."

"Of course, Raymond."

They switch spots, Red standing and stretching his stiff body as Dembe sinks into his worn armchair.

"Thank you, my friend."

(And while one 'thank you' is not nearly enough to repay Dembe for his silent concern and tactfulness amid Red's foolish mistake - the very thing Dembe warned him might happen - it will have to do for now.

After all, Dembe has never been one for 'I told you so'.)

Lizzie is not hard to find.

She's sitting on the little bench a few feet from the house, just as Dembe said, looking pensively out into the wooded area that surrounds the cabin. Red takes his time walking over to her, enjoying fresh air and natural daylight for the first time in days, before he takes a seat on the other end of the bench with a heavy sigh.

He's exhausted.

Red is content to take a minute to observe the area, enjoying the light, cool breeze and the serene bird calls all around them.

(He makes a mental note to bring Anne to sit out here once she can comfortably walk. She'll love it.)

Lizzie eventually breaks the silence, her tone emotionless and clinical. "How's she doing?"

Red purses his lips for a moment, tilting his head as he decides what to tell her. "She's doing well. She was lucky. At this rate she'll be up and moving again soon."

He sees Lizzie nod out of the corner of his eye. "Good, I'm glad."

Red works his mouth before responding, hearing the sincerity in her voice and wanting to express his appreciation. "Thank you for your help."

Lizzie just nods again, and they fall into tense, chilly silence, before something else occurs to Red.

"How's your arm?"

"It's fine. Dembe bandaged it for me. It wasn't deep."

It's Red's turn to nod, feeling oddly as though he's talking to a stranger. "Good, I'm glad."

There's another beat of silence in the air around them before she speaks again, abruptly changing the subject. "I talked to Harold," she says bluntly, and Red only then notices the cell phone clutched in her hand. "He sends his well wishes."

Red raises his eyebrows, surprised. "You updated him?"

"As much as necessary," she confirms simply. "He's willing to give me my job back."

Red's mouth almost falls open at that. "What?" he asks, aghast.

He hears Lizzie huff in dry amusement next to him. "I know," she mutters. "But I made him an offer he couldn't refuse. I stole valuable information and resources from Townsend while we were working together. There's a lot of incriminating, useful stuff there. I'm willing to trade it for a clean slate and a job."

Red absorbs that for a moment, taken off guard but not necessarily surprised. Lizzie has always surprised him with her intelligence and resourcefulness. He had assumed her anger and obsessive vendetta towards him would take up all of her attention, but it seems she planned for several different paths.

(And it makes his mouth twitch to think that, if she's taken nothing else from him, she's at least learned the value of contingency plans.)

"There is a catch, though," she mutters, and Red hums noncommittally.

"There usually is."

She doesn't seem amused this time, leaving him in suspense for only a moment before she responds. "The deal is contingent upon you coming back as my CI to continue work on the blacklist."

Red lets out a breath, once again not surprised, but unable to answer. He had continued with their work in her…absence, but things are different now. He thinks of Anne sleeping inside and closes his eyes wearily. They had agreed to part ways before he changed his mind and turned around on the highway, but things had gone south too quickly after that for them to discuss things again. They've been inseparable during her convalescence but Red still isn't quite sure where they stand for the future.

Or if they have one at all.

Lizzie shifts slightly on the bench next to him, waiting patiently until he opens his eyes, looking at the trees all around them instead of her.

"Is that…something you'd be open to?" she prompts delicately.

Red shakes his head. "I can't commit to that right now, Elizabeth. We'll need to…talk things over…Anne and I."

He feels the need to clarify pointedly at the end, and there is answering silence from the other end of the bench, though Red can see her posture stiffen slightly out of his peripherals.

(And he wonders what exactly she's thinking about. He hasn't looked her in the eyes once since he joined her out here on this bench. They haven't really looked at each other at all since she was on the other side of Anne's bleeding body. Perhaps long before that.)

"All right," she says simply, her tone flat and unreadable. "If you don't need any more help then, I'm leaving for a few days to see Agnes and set some things in motion with the task force. When I come back, will you have an answer for me?"

Before he can respond, Red suddenly hears the crunching of gravel, gradually growing louder as a familiar looking black sedan drives slowly into view, meandering up the winding driveway through the trees. Red reaches instinctively for his gun before Lizzie's voice stops him.

"It's just Harold. He's here to pick me up."

Red relaxes at once, nodding briefly and standing as Lizzie does the same. "Well, I'll see you in a few days," Lizzie says stiffly, her tone once again cold and mechanical, heading for Harold's car without waiting for a response.

Red doesn't stop her, waving once to Harold and heading back into the house, not remaining outside to see them off.

He wants to get back to Anne.

When he re-enters her room, Anne is awake and chatting with Dembe, so Red pauses in the doorway to observe them both. When she looks up and notices him, her face breaks into a beaming smile that warms his heart just like it did the very first time he saw it.

"Raymond," she says happily.

(And just like the first time - and every time since - Red can't help but smile back, wanting to share at least a little bit of the joy she helps him feel.)

Red moves forward into the room, and Dembe rises from the armchair to head for the door. Red pats his arms in thanks as he goes by and Dembe smiles warmly at Anne before closing the door behind him.

"I'm sorry about that, Anne," Red sighs as he sinks gratefully back into his armchair. "I had to talk to Elizabeth before she left."

"That's all right," Anne smiles, easy going as always. "Raymond, I was wondering…" she hesitates for a moment. "Who is she? I understand if you can't tell me, of course."

Red lets out a humorless chuckle. "Oh, Anne…" he murmurs, his eyes straying to her neatly bandaged leg hidden under the covers. "After what happened? Well, there's nothing I won't tell you anymore."

(Because she's the closest thing he's had to a second chance since Lizzie decided he was the bringer of all evil.)

So, with no further preamble, he tells her their whole sordid story, everything he and Lizzie have been through and done to each other, sparing no details and telling the whole truth of who he is. Because after how he's wronged her, Anne deserves the whole truth. By the time he's done, Anne has shed more than a few tears and has taken a tight hold of his hand.

"So, as you can see, Lizzie and I are…complicated," he tells her with a watery smile, stroking her hand with his thumb.

Anne chokes out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, on the contrary, Raymond. I think it's quite simple," she muses.

Red can only raise his eyebrows in incredulous surprise.

"You love her," Anne says simply.

(And to hear those three words, quietly debated within him since he saw Lizzie pointing a gun at Anne's head, now echo in his damaged soul, the truth of them still burning quietly within him, their flame tiny and battered, but still there.

Because he doesn't think he could ever stop loving Lizzie.)

Red lets out a ragged gasp, bowing his head and pressing his forehead to Anne's hand, still clutching his own, tears starting to well up and fall from his eyes.

"I do," Red gasps, feeling horribly guilty as he says it. "But I love you too. I'm sorry, Anne -"

But Anne's hands are running soothingly over his scalp, scrubbing over his hair in that way that he loves, gently pulling his head up to see her compassionate smile.

"Don't be sorry, Raymond," she murmurs to him. "I know how easy it is to love more than one person at once. I still love my husband. If he magically came back to life, you think I wouldn't leave you at the drop of a hat?"

Red barks out a laugh, pressing kisses to the back of Anne's hand as she chuckles, and he's never been more thankful for her. She lets their quiet laughter die down naturally before she hands him a tissue from the box on her bedside table, waiting for him to hastily wipe his face before she speaks again, quiet and gentle.

"We all have pasts, Raymond," she murmurs kindly. "I'm just sad that yours is filled with so much pain."

"And I'm sorry to have dragged you into it, Anne," Red whispers, fervent and sincere. "I was just desperate for a little safety and security and normality and love, after - after everything -"

"And I'm happy I was able to be a safe haven for you, Raymond," Anne assures him, love shining clearly from her eyes. "Of all the people searching for love in this world…you're the most worthy of anyone I've ever met."

"But you were shot because of me!" Red cries, gesturing angrily to her leg.

"Raymond," Anne says, her voice stronger now. "I stepped in front of that gun in the police station for you. I helped you get away. I saved you and I would do it again in a heartbeat! And do you know why? It's because I love you."

Red breaks down again, disbelieving and in awe, not only of the woman sitting in bed in front of him, but of the fact that there's anyone left on earth that could find him worthy of love.

(And perhaps the best part of meeting her - aside from coming home to a smiling face, spending time with her, kissing her, sleeping beside her, loving her - was watching in awe as she willingly and enthusiastically touched him, happy to get and give affection from him, something he hasn't experienced genuinely in such a long time.)

"Besides," Anne says, her tone lightening as she pats his hand again. "I broke my leg once in college and this isn't anywhere near as bad. That was months and months in bed, not being able to move, and it itched horribly…This? Oh, this is nothing. I'll be back on my feet in no time, you just wait and see."

Red laughs despite himself, still feeling horribly guilty but delighted with her attitude, ever happy and positive, even in the face of such pain and unpleasantness.

Anne sobers. "I don't regret our relationship, Raymond," she tells him seriously.

"Neither do I," he hurries to assure her. "Oh, Anne, neither do I. How could I?" He swallows nervously before admitting what he hasn't yet had a chance to tell her. "I - I turned around that day to come back to you. I changed my mind. I didn't want to leave."

"I know," Anne smiles at him. "And is that…still what you want? Because I…I still want us to be together, Raymond."

"Oh, Anne," Red breathes, his heart aching in his chest, his desire for a normal life with her and his need for her safety warring violently inside him. "It's not safe for you to be with me. I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt again. Next time…we might not be so lucky."

Anne frowns slightly, confused. "But…the man who shot me is dead. Your Elizabeth killed him."

Red looks at her, miserable and broken-hearted, but equally thankful for her pure innocence and ignorance of the horrors of his world. "Anne…there will always be others."

He watches it hit her, the awful realization that peace and happiness between them will never be compatible with her safety, that they can never, in his good conscience, have the happiness and domesticity of the past few months, that short-lived joy of smiles and laughter and touches and kisses and rest.

(And just the thought of returning to the underhanded business dealings of his criminal empire, with no hope at all for the respite of her company, fills him with an intense, desperate sadness.

And perhaps he's finally getting too old and tired for this.)

"So," Anne whispers, sounding broken. "We can't be together?"

"I'm so sorry, Anne," Red whispers, more tears welling up in his eyes. "As much as I hate it… it's for your safety. You should go to the cabin and wait for my postcard, like we talked about before. It was my weakness that brought me back to you the other day. I have to be strong now."

Anne shakes her head fiercely. "If it was your weakness that brought you back to me, then it was also your weakness that saved me, and I'm thankful for that. I can be strong now…for both of us."

But her eyes fill up with tears at her words, betraying her feelings, just like they did when they stood in her garage and he tried to leave her the first time, and Red loathes himself for breaking her heart once again. "Anne…" he murmurs softly, waiting until she looks into his eyes to continue. "Please believe me when I say that the past few months have been…a balm to my soul. I can never thank you enough."

Anne just smiles and brings his hand to her mouth for a kiss. "Likewise, Raymond…Likewise."

Red stands up and leans over the bed to press a soft, desperate kiss to her lips, and then lean his forehead against hers for a long, sweet moment, that is somehow still much too short.

(And he is absolutely certain that he'll never forget her.)

When he pulls back, it's to Anne dabbing her eyes and sniffing delicately. "Well, we still have a few more days while I finish healing. Let's enjoy our time together and part as close friends with pleasant memories together, shall we?"

Red just shakes his head, awestruck. "Whatever did I do to deserve you?"

Anne says nothing more, just smiling at him and patting the bed in invitation. Red climbs gratefully up beside her, emotionally exhausted and craving the physical comfort she so willingly gives, and he tries not to jostle her as she scootches over to make room for him. He lays on the outside of the covers so as not to bother her leg, and he waits for her to inch down the mattress to lay nearly horizontal, adjusting her pillows for her once she's settled before laying down himself. They lay close together, sharing air and warmth, and Anne tugs Red gently to lay his head on her shoulder, her hands resuming their favorite activity of running soothingly over his hair and scalp.

They lie in comfortable, easy silence as the room starts to darken around them, evening creeping slowly into the room. Dembe will be in to turn on the lamps soon. Red wonders if they will be awake to greet him, as Anne's hand starts to caress slower and his eyelids grow heavy.

Not quite ready to leave her quiet company for slumber just yet, Red lets his low voice rumble into the silence. "What are you thinking about?"

Anne's soft voice replies after a moment, and her answer surprises him. "Elizabeth…Will you try to mend things with her?"

Red is quiet for a long while, measuring time only by the lengthening of the shadows across the floor of the room. They've reached the far dresser before he answers her. "I don't know…she's betrayed my trust countless times."

Anne hums pensively above him. "But she saved us the other day. She's been through a lot, Raymond. And, most importantly, she loves you."

Red closes his eyes, trying desperately to block the memory of Lizzie professing that love to him in a prison cell, wondering - not for the first time - if what she said then is still true today.

(He tends to doubt it.)

"She's been through so much, Raymond," Anne murmurs, and Red is surprised to hear a little compassion and affection in her voice. "Nobody's perfect and all relationships have their complications…"

"Perhaps," Red hums, still privately resenting Lizzie for her pointless anger at him, her destructive vendetta, and, most of all, her part in Anne's injuries, but Anne continues to talk, dragging her nails lightly over his scalp, making his toes curl in pleasure.

"She'll find her way back to you, Raymond, don't worry."

Eyes still leisurely closed, Red blindly turns his head to press a soft kiss to the warm skin of her neck, trying desperately to battle back the hope her words are trying to kindle within him. "How can you be so sure?"

Anne hums thoughtfully, and Red can tell by her stilling hand and her slowing speech that she's getting sleepy. "I believe people remain in our lives for a reason, Raymond," Anne murmurs slowly. "Our story may be nearing its end but you and Elizabeth still have some pages to fill. You won't lose her…"

Red's breathing starts to slow and deepen, following Anne willingly towards sleep.

"Maybe it will finally be time for the kind of relationship you've always wanted with her, the kind we've enjoyed, for however short a time…" Anne whispers, and her hand falls to land warmly on his shoulder as she drifts off, cradling him even in her sleep. "Maybe she'll be ready to love again…and it will all be worth it…"

"Yes…" Red sighs, slipping into welcome sleep, just one thought following him as he goes, comfortable and warm in Anne's embrace.

Lizzie has always been worth it…