A/N: In case anyone is interested in this sort of thing, "Side" by Pentatonix is the unofficial anthem for this chapter, and Lizzington general right now…It's a gorgeous song! I hope everyone enjoys this penultimate chapter, thank you so much for sticking around! :)

Chapter 4

Far sooner than Red would like, Anne is fully healed and it's time for them to go their separate ways. They don't drag out their goodbyes; nothing needs to be said between them that hasn't been said before. But Red makes sure to tell her again how thankful he is for their time together and that he's truly sorry for the pain he's caused her. Anne just shakes her head and gives him one last sweet kiss, reminding him that her door is always open and she'll always answer the phone. He nods and tells her to keep an eye out for his postcard, knowing that he won't take the risk of seeing her again.

(The incident with Townsend taught him his lesson.)

As she climbs in her taxi and drives away, Red says a quiet goodbye to both her and the soft, lovely, domestic life she's taking with her, thankful for that little slice of happiness she was gracious enough to give him, watching until she's out of sight. He feels weighed down with a pensive, bone-deep sadness when she's really gone, something he got a taste of driving away from her the first time, and it's only stronger now.

(It's a good thing he's used to goodbyes.)

He stays in the cabin for a few more days, alone and mourning the loss of her love and company while, at the same time, being unspeakably thankful that she's still in the world somewhere, safe and tucked far away from the danger he brings with him everywhere. She's alive, she's safe, and she loves him, and - eventually - that will be enough for Red.

It's a few more days before he reaches out to Lizzie.

He wasn't ready to see her when she came by before; he was still very much wrapped up in Anne and enjoying the last of their time together. Lizzie's presence only served as a reminder of the incoming heartache, and he was more cold than he should have been toward her. She hadn't been the friendliest either, but she's always been very good at reading and responding to his cues.

Now that Anne is gone and he's taken the first steps to moving on, Red remembers Anne's advice to give her another chance, to have pity on her, to try again for something better with her. Lizzie is, after all, the only reason Anne was alive to give that opinion at all, and Red is grateful to her for that.

So, resolved in his path and feeling ready to face her again, Red calls Dembe and arranges his return to D.C. He and Dembe catch up on the ride to the airfield, and Red makes a point to thank him for his compassion, tactfulness, and loyalty in the face of recent events.

(He doesn't understand why Dembe has stuck with him this long, through the danger and death and illness and broken hearts, but Red tries to tell him at every opportunity how thankful he is that he stays.)

By the time they board the plane, they're laughing together again and, once they've taken off, Red decides it's high time to call Lizzie.

She picks up on the first ring.

"Keen."

"Elizabeth!" he greets her happily, determined to start off on the right foot this time.

"Reddington," she greets, her tone monotone and unreadable over the satellite phone. "Nice of you to call. How's Anne?"

The slight snark he detects in her voice, combined with the mention of Anne's name, make the back of his neck prickle in irritation, but he tries his best to ignore it, knowing they are still in desperate need of a long talk.

But that's something that should happen in person.

So, he presses on. "She's just fine, thank you for asking! Given the go ahead by the doctor, healthy as a horse! How are things on your end? Are you all cleared with the task force, ready to start work?"

"Things are fine here, Cooper got everything squared away. We're just waiting on you."

She still has no real expression to her voice, making it hard to interpret her meaning over the phone, but Red tells himself he'll wait until they see each other in person. Soon, they'll be able to sit and hash things out, once and for all, and these hellish guessing games - and hopefully her unpredictable moods - will be a thing of the past.

"Well, that's excellent timing!" he proclaims, slipping back into his well-worn Concierge persona like a warm, welcoming bath. "Because I have a blacklister for you."

Unfortunately, things don't go as smoothly as he hoped.

When he walks back into the post office, it's the first time in what feels like a long time, and the first time in even longer that Lizzie is the first thing he sees.

(And he's missed the sight of her here, hard at work amid her colleagues, profiling, chasing criminals, doing what she loves and what he loves to see her doing.)

She's at Aram's desk when the elevator doors open and, while he doesn't expect her to drop everything to greet him, he does expect a little more than what he gets. Aram looks up first, greeting him with his typical bright smile and a little wave.

"Hi, Mr. Reddington! It's good to see you back."

"Likewise, Aram," Red smiles, genuinely glad to see him, before he turns to Lizzie.

"Elizabeth," he greets, quieter, his voice becoming warmer, deeper, because - despite it all - he is happy to see her.

(And, for the first time in the longest time…he's hopeful for their future.)

But - also not for the first time - she surprises him.

"Reddington," she says, formal and professional and completely not what Red expects.

And, with nothing more than a stiff little nod, she turns back to Aram's monitor. "So, try triangulating that signal and then we can…"

He tries to give her the benefit of the doubt, assuming she's busy and not able to talk, so Red hesitates only for a moment before heading up to Harold's office, already making plans to talk to her later instead.

But they don't talk later.

Lizzie is always in her office doing paperwork or making calls, out of the post office running down a lead, or disappearing behind the elevator doors to relieve her babysitter. She declines to meet with him for meals or in the park and even their phone calls are tense and abbreviated.

She's avoiding him.

She's perfectly cordial otherwise. Professional and courteous and polite and everything they've never been with each other.

It's unnerving.

(And it tells Red that something is very wrong.)

But, not wanting to push her and ruin another chance to make peace, Red says nothing, biding his time, thinking about what to do, observing her. And as he does this, he continues bringing blacklisters to the task force. As focused as Lizzie is, they put criminals away at a rate they never have before, tracking them down and apprehending them one after another in quick succession.

But that doesn't mean things are easy.

Lizzie starts taking the lead on any and all arrests and undercover operations, always the first to leap into action, and it's starting to concern Red. Now whenever he manages to see her in person - however briefly - she's always sporting a new collection of injuries. From bruises to cuts to scrapes to stitches, she seems to be getting worse instead of better. It's on one trip to the post office where he runs into her coming out of Harold's office and he lets out an audible gasp at what he sees.

"Elizabeth," he growls, gaze fixed on the blue and purple bruises covering the delicate skin surrounding her left eye. "What happened?"

He steps closer to her on the narrow staircase, reaching a gentle hand up towards the injury out of pure instinct, rage flowing through him at whoever did this to her, only to be shocked and hurt by the quick few steps she takes away from him, tilting her head to shield her injured face from him.

"It's nothing," she mutters, not meeting his eyes. "I just had some issues with a suspect, that's all."

"Issues?" Red snarls. "Elizabeth, what -"

(And it's only then that he notices the way she's cradling her right side and he wonders furiously how far below her neckline the bruising extends, considering for a delirious moment tugging her into the shadowy depths of the blacksite to conduct a more thorough examination, wanting nothing more than to tend to her wounds, in any way she'll allow.)

"It's nothing," she repeats. "Cooper's waiting for you. I have to get back to work."

And she pushes firmly past him to continue down the stairs.

Limping slightly as she goes.

It's after that that Red invites himself on the next undercover operation, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive, determined to get to the root of her uncharacteristic recklessness.

(Because no matter how he tries to rationalize it, he can only come to the conclusion that it has something to do with him, and he simply can't stand the idea of her being physically hurt because of him.)

And so, this resolution to decipher the cause of Lizzie's restlessness, this desire to heal the many wounds between them, is why he ends up in a musty, unmarked FBI van outside of a seedy nightclub with Donald Ressler at a quarter to twelve.

Red gives a world-weary sigh. "I hesitate to ask Donald but, for the sake of my sanity, could you perhaps find it within you to chew with your mouth closed?"

Donald rolls his eyes, somehow managing to swallow his huge mouthful of pepperoni pizza before speaking. "Piss off, Reddington," he snaps. "I didn't invite you along on this op, you invited yourself. Sorry if it's not the fine dining experience you imagined."

"On the contrary, Donald," Red snarks, quickly becoming irritable. "I didn't expect there would be any dining involved at all. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't managed to slop any cheese on your cutting edge FBI surveillance equipment -"

"Shut up, there's Keen!"

Red's head whips up to look at the old monitors displaying the grainy, black and white video feed hijacked from the night club's outdoor security camera. Sure enough, there is Lizzie, staggering out of the nightclub and leaning drunkenly on their mark, an associate of their blacklister that she is attempting to coerce for information. Red leans in closer to squint at the monitor.

"She's rubbing her right ear," Ressler mutters, throwing his pizza slice back in the box and wiping his hands hurriedly on his napkin. "Standby."

Red removes his handgun from its holster anyway, eyeing the way the mark is drunkenly attempting to grope Lizzie, his hands pawing at her waist as they stumble down the street. Red grinds his teeth, tapping the muzzle of his gun on his knee.

"What is she waiting for?" Red mutters, itching to burst out of the van and get Lizzie away from the wandering hands that are creeping too close to the hem of her short dress.

"She's probably trying to get him closer to the van so we can take him down easily. Just hang on, she knows what she's doing," Ressler says and Red's eyes narrow at the monitor.

The unsteady couple slowly wanders closer to where Ressler and Red are lying in wait and Lizzie lets out a drunken giggle, throwing her arm around the mark in a way he clearly enjoys while subtly tapping the fingers of her other hand on her right thigh.

"There's the signal. Prepare to engage."

Ressler's already busy checking the rounds in his handgun, attention turned away from the monitor, but Red keeps his eyes firmly trained on the screen, suspicious and not willing to let Lizzie out of his sight. Watching carefully as he is, Red can see the second that the mark catches sight of Lizzie's signal out of the corner of his eye, his face contorting in rage in an instant, suddenly not acting drunk at all anymore, and he's throwing Lizzie hard to the ground, her bare arm scraping painfully against the pavement as he whips a handgun out of the back of his pants and points it at her.

Red's heart stops beating.

"I knew it! Who are you? What do you want? Who are you working for?" the mark screams, his voice clearly audible from inside the van, but Red doesn't wait for Lizzie to answer.

Without a second thought, Red is bursting out of the van, throwing the door open, taking expert aim, and pulling the trigger.

(And he doesn't give a thought to the man's information or connections, his life forfeit the second he laid a violent hand on Lizzie.)

The single round goes right through the man's heart and he's dead before he hits the ground, collapsing to the pavement with his gun still clutched uselessly in his hand. Red nods in satisfaction before turning to help Lizzie up off the pavement, but she's already up and starting to yell, apparently ignorant of the blood coating her badly scraped arm.

"Red, what the hell!" she snaps, and Red is taken aback by the ferocity in her voice. "We needed him for information!"

Rage ignites in an instant within Red at the further proof of her blatant disregard for her own safety. "I'm not sure if you noticed, Agent Keen, but he was about to shoot you!"

"Bullshit, Red, I had him! God damn it!" she shrieks, her hands balling into fists as she gets in his face, nearly level with him in her tall heels. "I don't need you to protect me!"

"Well, please excuse me for saving your life!" he barks, unable to control his temper, the volume of his voice growing to match hers. "And I suppose your bleeding arm is nothing to worry about either?"

Unable to stop himself, he snatches the wrist of her injured arm, holding it up for her to see, forcing her to look at proof of what just happened, but she lets out a furious noise and rips her arm from his grasp, glaring at him.

"Let go of me!" she snarls.

Red can only glare right back at her, nostrils flared and mouth agape, nearly lost for words at her behavior.

(Because he is just so confused, why is she acting this way, why is she so angry and reckless, why won't she talk to him, why, why, why -)

Red takes a breath through his teeth and tries in vain to calm down. "You have to stop doing this, Elizabeth. You're going to get yourself killed. Or is that what you want?"

But Lizzie is having none of it, her temper exploding at his words, and she shoves viciously at his chest in a sudden movement that has him staggering two steps backwards out of sheer surprise.

"And what are you going to do about it? Sic your girlfriend on me? So mommy can tell me how bad I've been?" she spits nastily.

The words are taunting and cruel, meant to get a rise out of him with her face screwed up in ugly fury, and her words feel so purely disgusting to Red that he simply can't stand it anymore -

"Elizabeth, stop being a child!"

(And he hates the words more than anything, feeling sick to his stomach as he roars them out into the cold night air, but he can't think of any other explanation for this, can't understand why she hasn't changed, why they can't do better, why they do this to each other, how else to get through to her -)

But his words have a curious effect on her, her rage abruptly deflating and her furious blue eyes suddenly filling with tears, utterly baffling him, before she whips around, hair flying, and stalks off down the street and into the night.