The Concierge & The Citadel

by RosalieReddington

"There are few that understand love and loss more than I..." Raymond Reddington once had a relatively normal life. A wife, a child, a few good friends. Fate was unkind when it took those he loved. Now, as he faces death row, fate returns a familiar face that will bring memories, joy, and love back to Red's life. Pre-Blacklist Years. (Mostly) Cannon Compliant.

38. Mi6 Years: Part 1 - Breaking Ground

A/N:

It's been a hot minute, I know...

I appreciate your patience as my mental health demanded I take a break while writing this chapter. I promise I will never abandon this fic, though it will occasionally take more time between chapters than either of us would like.

Inspiration for Black Site #88 "The Abbey": 2021/01/30/black-site-88-the-abbey-london-uk/

Inspiration for Black Site #93 "ملاذ": 2021/03/18/black-site-93-%d9%85%d9%84%d8%a7%d8%b0-dubai-united-arab-emirates/

(ملاذ is pronounced "Maladh")

I tried something a little different in this chapter and the one following. There are a number of time skips, jumping back and forth between the past three months and the present. (The first section will leave you with a lot of questions which will be answered in the upcoming chapter.)br /

As usual, any past events are all in italics, keep an eye on the dates at the top of each section as to where and when events took place ;)

---

Normandy, France - July 20th, 2000

Dawn was just breaking over the horizon's edge.

Rampant shocks of dazzling pink ricocheted off the water to shine against white cliffs which soared hundreds of feet above the ocean's depths.

Britannia was not visible from where a woman stood precariously close to the cliff's edge. Gusts buffeted her dangerously, whipped at her clothes and hair, made them billow in a wild whirl around her.

A glimmer of sunrise managed to illuminate her for a brief moment before the star's glow was swallowed by a taciturn sky.

She turned into the wind, closing her eyes to bask in its bracing chill. The biting mist had picked up once more, its drizzle combining with the ocean's spray to sting at her cheeks.

Despite it being mid-summer, the cliffside was as frigid and unwelcoming as a spring storm.

The ominous skies and dismal weather brought Rosalie Øllegaard back to herself, grounded her in a way she hadn't felt in some time.

Shortly after her split with Raymond, Rosalie's client list swelled to nearly a thousand strong. The network soon was forced to follow, expanding once more to meet demand.

The only saving grace was that the majority of this unexpected expansion centered on one corner of the world. As such, the whole of the past five months had been spent in the arid plateaus and deserts of Arabia and the Middle East. First Yemen, then Saudi Arabia, followed by Pakistan, Syria, Iraq and Kuwait, to name a scant few.

It was arduous and harrowing, but this time around Rosalie managed the explosion of new development almost single-handedly. Teddy had been permitted to step in only when she was too exhausted to make another call, whereupon he could finally pester her into getting some sleep.

From the heart of the Wadi Rum desert, Rosalie's wealth and influence grew to a level she'd never thought possible.

Yet for Rosalie, it felt as though nothing had changed.

She was still who she had always been; though, if she were to ask her guards, Rosalie was certain they'd say she'd grown harder in the past three months. Angrier.

They wouldn't be wrong.

Rosalie's temperament had always been rather agreeable. She was warm, spirited, playful at her best. She liked to think she was kind, empathetic.

Her time in the Middle East, however, had served to see her gentle warmth turn scalding. The seemingly endless sunlight, heat, and dust set her temper boiling closer and closer to the surface these days. Responsibilities beckoning at all hours of the day and night sharpened the edge of her razored tongue to spit acid whenever she became exasperated.

Too much noise overwhelmed her. Too much silence made her anxious.

The courtyard was too hot. The den with the writer's desk was too stuffy.

Teddy and Cedric treated her with kid gloves. Horace handled her like a bull in a china shop.

Every waking moment served to annoy.

A sharp gust pulled Rosalie back to the present, wiping away the churning lava pooling in her chest as quickly as it came.

It was wonderful to feel the cool ocean air card through her curls after so many weeks of them being tucked beneath a hijab.

"Rosie?"

It was Horace.

"Caspian is ready for you; the jet is fueled and waiting to take you to Corsica."

She didn't answer at first, opting instead to take one last cleansing breath into the open sky. The air tasted like salt on her tongue.

"You were right. Working with Raymond was a mistake."

Rosalie turned to see Horace standing with his hands jammed in the pockets of his dark leather jacket.

Even beneath the blanket of stormy sky, keen eyes glinted at her like black diamonds beneath his furrowed brow. The thin mouth slightly obscured by his growing beard was pursed in a tight line.

His displeasure made her feel childish. As if she should have seen this coming, as if she would have caught on sooner had she been more realistic. Rosalie had been a fool in love before, one would think she would have learned how to spot the lie.

Deep down, she knew she should've known better.

"You loved him," Horace said simply, his countenance softening when hers crumpled once more. "Love makes us all blind, Rosalie. It wasn't your fault."

"I thought…" she shook her head, "I was so sure that I knew him, that I knew what kind of man Raymond was."

"...I'm a firm believer that we never really know anyone, Rosalie."

"If that's the case, then there isn't a soul on this earth who I can trust." She kicked a loose stone over the cliff's edge, "I'd rather burn my empire to the ground than believe I've built a bastille around myself."

Horace reached out and pulled her into a bracing hug, "You can trust me. This moment right here is why I came back, why I insisted you leave when Reddington decided he was done with you. I wanted so badly to spare you from the threats closing in on you, Rosie."

She stood stock-still in his hold, neither speaking nor reciprocating. Though she could not fault Horace's logic, Rosalie could not bring herself to wholeheartedly agree with him. Their friendship had healed in many ways, but the confidence and easy camaraderie they'd once enjoyed had yet to rekindle for her. Despite his attempts at comfort, she now felt more alone than ever.

"I know." Rosalie leaned out of his hold, sparing one last look at the crashing sea below before starting the trudge back toward the house.

"I appreciate your loyalty Horace," she said earnestly, "You never really gave up on me, did you? You were on my side, even when you weren't around."

A noncommittal shrug was all Horace could muster, "Didn't do much good. Reddington still dragged you into harm's way, you were still taken. I never should have left."

"You're right, you shouldn't have left. I'm not so certain you should've come back, either."

Teddy was stood at the base of the home's veranda, exactly where Rosalie had left him.

What little tension the three of them had managed to diffuse in that short span of time was immediately churned up again by Ted's snide remark.

Rosalie felt the heavy weight settle on her shoulders once more, making it harder and harder to suppress the bitter resentment she felt rising inside her.

Horace wasted no time with a rebuttal, "Well you'd better fall in line Teddy, because I'm here to stay whether you like it or not."

"Enough, for god's sake-"

Rosalie's exasperation couldn't be heard over the sound of Ted biting back, "Stop speaking to me as though you have any semblance of credibility, you bloody turncoat."

"I made the wrong choice, but I'm making it right." Horace barked, following him and Rosalie into the safe house, "I'd rather be known for that small indiscretion than being shite at my job."

"I was the one who took up your shite job when you couldn't be bothered to do it!"

"Again, she's never been abducted on my watch, so who's really -"

Fed up with the utter bedlam unfolding around her, Rosalie slipped into the shadows and out of the room.

Her feet carried her without thought to the front door, where she swapped her shawl for a leather jacket and silently lifted the car keys from one of Horace's pockets.

The bellowing voices in the lounge continued their melee as she carefully prized open the front door and slipped outside, pulling it closed with a soft click.

The sudden rush of freedom made Rosalie lightheaded. The weight of her criminal life seemed to melt into the ether with each step. She sprinted to the car, boarded, and turned the key as quickly as she could.

A deep breath filled her lungs, in through the nose, out through the mouth, marginally calming her hammering heart.

"Just go," she whispered aloud, "You can outrun anyone; just go."

Punching the accelerator, she whipped the car around to face the open road. The gravel that plunked against the Phantom's undercarriage might as well have been a jet engine, as loud as it sounded in Rosalie's ears. The vehicle peeled out of the drive in mere seconds and pulled onto the single country lane which would lead back to the coastal highway.

The drive was a mere ten minutes, but it felt like years as Rosalie sped the length of open road, so buried inside her own mind that she nearly missed her exit.

Finding the familiar white and silver jet was easy once she'd passed through a set of security gates onto the small stretch of private airstrip.

She pulled up directly alongside the bird, exited the car, and ascended the steps without a single bag in tow.

"Mademoiselle, it is good to see you again."

The voice was that of Caspian, Marietta's personal pilot. He stepped out of the cockpit with his usual friendly smile beneath a wirey salt-and-pepper beard.

"Bonjour," she replied mechanically, "Veuillez m'emmener immédiatement en Corse, j'ai besoin de parler avec mon père."

Caspian peeked surreptitiously over her shoulder, obviously in search of her guards. When Rosalie did nothing but blink stoically back, he nodded and closed the cabin for takeoff.

She pulled off her jacket and settled into one of the plush leather seats, yanking the nearby window covers closed so she would not be blinded when the plane broke cloud cover.

It would be a short flight, no more than two hours before she would be safely within the walls of the Armel compound in Porto Vecchio. Teddy and Horace could follow later; for now, Rosalie desperately needed to speak with Florian alone.

She stood once they were in the air and mixed herself a bloody mary with a heavy pour, ignoring the early hour in favor of numbing the emotions which coursed through her with such sickening efficacy. The shaking of ice and snap of a celery stick accompanied Rosalie about the spacious cabin, her eyes trailing over its gleaming wood paneling and inviting furniture.

A voice needled at her from the back of her mind, reminding her that she needed to start the process of purchasing her own plane and hiring her own pilot. Moving in Raymond's private jet for a year and a half had thoroughly spoiled her. Once they'd parted ways, Marietta had been all too willing to quietly lend her own jet when Rosalie had need of it, but the fact of the matter was Caspian was needed in Corsica.

Rosalie could afford a fleet of planes at this point, and a top-notch pilot, too. The large purchases would barely make a dent in her wealth before being filled in by passive income.

Health, wealth, power and security. On the surface, it all looked so easy, so glamorous.

Yet despite all that had gone right in the past five months, everything still felt horribly wrong.

For Rosalie, her world had been torn asunder in Belgium, and no amount of success or creature comforts would be able to heal the wound Raymond had left behind.

---

Three Months Earlier - Outskirts of Brussels, Belgium - March 22, 2000

They'd been driving for a half-hour, finally making it to Brussels's northern city limits.

The silence in the car was deafening, uncomfortable for everyone involved, yet no one dared utter a word.

Wordless looks were exchanged amongst the men in the rear-view mirror, not one of them really sure where they should be going.

"Where we headed, Rosalie?" Ted tried at last, hoping to ease an answer out of her.

Rosalie's fingertips worried the hem of her skirt, but her eyes never left the dark landscape which sped by outside the window.

Cedric turned in his seat, knowing her complete disregard for Teddy's question spoke louder than a response ever could. He reached out to cover her fidgeting hands with one of his own, "We can turn around, Rosalie."

Rosalie finally pulled her eyes from the window to focus on Cedric, who couldn't help but note how watery and bloodshot her gaze had become.

She was exhausted and hurting. Her eyes begged him not to tempt her. She didn't have the strength to ponder that offer just now.

He gave her a covert nod and pulled the burner from his jacket, leaving his hand on top of hers.

"What are you doing?" Horace's attention circulated between Cedric, the road, and Rosalie in the rear-view mirror.

Cedric punched a number on his speed dial, "Calling the only person who can help."

It was a short wait for the person on the other end to answer.

"Marietta, we need your assistance…No, everything's fine…Rosalie and I need to borrow Caspian…I promise you we are safe…Yes, I'm sure...How soon can he be in Antwerp?…Merci, Maman."

Tucking the phone back into his pocket, Cedric gestured toward the highway's shoulder, "Pull over."

"Why?" Horace's tone turned immediately suspicious.

"Pull. Over."

The vehicle slowed to a reluctant halt beneath an overpass.

Horace scowled when the man exited the car and moved to the backseat. Teddy and Rosalie shifted down the line, making room for the newcomer.

Cedric slid into the spot behind the passenger's seat, closed the door, and gathered Rosalie into his arms.

"Stay on N177, head for Deurne in Antwerp," Horace was directed, "Caspian is just leaving Paris, he will be touching down in just under an hour…"

They managed the car ride in relative silence, the only sounds breaking the quiet were the windshield wipers and the soft huff of Rosalie's breathing.

She had fallen asleep shortly into the journey, exhausted once more by the emotional expenditure she had endured. Her head lay flush against Cedric's shoulder, his hands smoothing up and down her arm in a comforting manner.

The concern he felt for his pseudo-sibling was palpable in the vehicle's confines, as though a protective barrier radiated from Cedric's person to envelop Rosalie from head to toe.

Unbeknownst to his worrying mind, there had been a silent battle waging in the rear-view mirror which was about to reach its head.

"What, Teddy?"

Ted Beaumont had been snarling at Horace's reflection with abject dislike, "How could you talk her into leaving Raymond? It's obvious to anyone with eyes she's in love with the man, why would you do that?"

"How could you nottalk her into leaving Reddington?" Horace countered, "Do you not care for her at all? Not everything we love is good for us. Her connection with him got her kidnapped. You got lucky. It could have been so much worse. Your job is to protect her and you let some low-level drug rats take her-"

"If you two wake her, I will kill you both myself."

Cedric's low growl barely registered for the other two, whose varied grievances were finally boiling to the surface.

"They knew we were going to be there months in advance!" Teddy snapped, fighting to keep his voice down, "We followed the protocols, we did everything right, but our system isn't effective when someone leaks our planned locations-"

Horace shook his head, "Excuses. That's all you're offering Ted, excuses. You should never have left her side, especially with Reddington making himself a target like he did."

Ted jabbed a finger at the mirror, "I did everything in my power to keep her safe while respecting her wishes. You've never given the least bit of thought as to what Rosalie wants-"

"I DID" shouted Horace in a hoarse whisper, "I pushed her toward the man, and you know what happened? Reddington dragged her into the filthiest corners of the underworld he could find, right under my nose. I was her right hand, and I coaxed her into the arms of a ticking timebomb who has little to no regard for her personal safety."

Horace's face had darkened to an angry red, "I've lived with that knowledge every day since. So yes, when the opportunity presented itself to pry her from his influence, I jumped at the chance. I talked Rosalie into leaving what she wanted because her blind adoration for Reddington was going to get her killed."

"Your dislike for Reddington had nothing to do with it, I'm sure." Cedric's voice cut across the pause in conversation with ease, earning a spite-filled glare from the rearview mirror, "A man does not disguise his own selfish wants beneath a guise of chivalry, Horace."

Horace's eyes narrowed, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Cedric didn't so much as blink. "Rosalie may be blind to the way you look at her Horace, but I most certainly am not."

The sickly green hue which tinged Horace's features did not go unnoticed by those in the backseat. He hurried to deflect, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You want her or you want something from her, I've yet to decide which. Perhaps it's both."

The eerie calm with which Cedric spoke managed to set Horace's teeth on edge.

"I most certainly do not. I want her to be successful and to make it out alive. So forgive me if I, unlike you, refuse to coddle her."

"You positively bully her."

The rapid-fire retort struck a nerve. The green tinge to Horace's pallor drained only to replace with a hot flush as he bit back, "I do what's best for her. You and Florian have always been too soft-"

"And you've always been a selfish, self-assured prick," Cedric hissed lowly, refusing to allow a jab at Florian Armel to go unchecked, "Looks like we can both make astute observations-"

They fell silent when Rosalie began to move, wriggling her shoulders into a more comfortable position before she sighed and was out once more.

Cedric's green eyes had lost none of their ire when they shifted back up to Horace, "Keep your mouth shut and your eyes on the road. Rosalie may have brought you back into her syndicate, but I won't suffer your bullshit further."

---

Rosalie's Apartment - Paris, France

The flight from Antwerp was uneventful. The altercation in the car had settled a blanket of disgruntled silence around most of the cabin's occupants. Rosalie, thankfully, was barely awake enough to register their location.

It was nearly midnight when Caspian touched down in Paris. Cedric had chosen the most familiar locale for the night, with the assumption that Rosalie would decide her desired course of action in the next day or so.

What he hadn't planned on was the unexpected visitor who was seated in the home's master suite when they arrived.

Marietta Armel, in all of her formidable grandeur, had been waiting for them.

Cedric supposed he should have known that was why Caspian was already in Paris.

Rosalie took a bleary look around the room, head still heavy from sleep when she recognized the woman rising from one of the settees.

"Ma rose sauvage…" Marietta's arms opened wide, and Rosalie readily threw herself into the welcome sanctuary. "Qu'est-il arrivé, ma fille?"

When a quiet sniffle was all Rosalie could muster, Marietta waved the boys toward the hall, sparing a kiss on the cheek for Cedric. "Tu es un bon garçon, mon fils," she whispered fondly, then patted his shoulder and gestured him out.

Even after the door closed and the women were left alone, Marietta simply stood there hugging Rosalie. She rocked her daughter gently back and forth for several minutes, waiting for the soft sobs to quieten before easing the two of them toward one of the nearby settees.

"Come now," she said, producing a silk handkerchief and dabbing at Rosalie's cheeks, "Tell Maman what's wrong. Why are you running off alone in the dead of night? Where's Raymond?"

The mention of Red's name garnered another hiccup from Rosalie.

"He's ended it. Us." She confided with a shaky breath, "There was an-" Rosalie chose her words carefully, "There was an incident. The German who's been chasing us knew we were going to be in Colombia…"

A scowl darkened Marietta's features, "What happened?"

Rosalie shook her head and buried her face in her palms.

Marietta grasped her shoulders and lifted, her cheeks paling with every second the truth was withheld from her. "Tell me, chéri."

The truth spilled out of Rosalie before she could stop it. "I was taken. The German enlisted a cartel by the name of Los Reyes Sagrados to abduct me while Raymond and I were in Palmira on business."

"What did they do? Did they hurt you?"

"Minor bumps and bruises," she lied, but a gentle hand lifted to firmly cup her chin.

Marietta had turned mutinous, her amber eyes flickering with a fury Rosalie had scarcely seen before.

"What did they do to you mon trésor?"

The question was not a request.

"A man tried-" her dark eyes welled with tears, working to convey the necessary words her mouth seemed unable to form, "He tried, Maman. If I hadn't fought back, he would have…"

She watched helplessly as Marietta's concerned expression fell with her understanding, horrorstruck that any man had dared attempt to defile her.

Madame Armel's face went from ghostly white to furious red. Her eyes narrowed to slits and a potent snarl fought valiantly to claim her lips. "You are not telling me everything."

The rage she felt was palpable; it made Rosalie want to sink into the carpet, never to be seen again. "Trust me Maman, you don't want to know everything."

Her statement chilled the air in the room.

"You said you fought back," Marietta hissed, voice feverish with the need for the truth, "What happened? Tell me, fille."

Rosalie felt her cheeks grow hot, suddenly and unexplainably abashed. "I…well, I caved his head in with a boulder. I was being held in a corral with another couple dozen women and girls, one of the young girls, Lita, she rolled the boulder to me and I swung it as hard as I could. I hit him again, and again, and again until I knew he would never get back up."

"…Mon dieu…"

Marietta's eyes shone with tears, "Did they hurt you? Tell Maman," she implored, "Florian and I, we will make it right ma fille, tell me what they did and we will make them pay."

"Maman, no-"

But Madame Armel was having none of it, "Rosalie, this is not a request; such an attack cannot go unchecked. I understand your desire to move past such an experience, c'est épouvantable, but we are Armelschéri, our place in the criminal underworld demands that we retaliate-"

Rosalie clung to Marietta's hands, her head shaking, trying desperately to explain, "No Maman, Raymond-"

"Raymond should have handled them." Marietta's usually warm voice was low and waspish, "I would never have suspected this of him, he struck me as such a gentleman. That someone would abduct his lover and escape with their life is unconscionable-"

"Maman, he did handle them." Rosalie grabbed the woman's shoulders in a tight grip, "Raymond was so…" her breath stuttered at the memory of the unbridled fury which had consumed Red from the moment she'd been taken, "Raymond was so angry, Maman. I'd never seen him so furious. He and the others found me before the German arrived, but not before I'd gotten into a few altercations with the cartel. I was scratched and bruised, but for the most part unharmed. So I was taken to Paris, to Cedric, where Ray knew I'd be safe. Then he left…" Rosalie's voice dropped to an ominous whisper, "He went back, Maman. Raymond went back to Colombia and leveled Los Reyes Sagrados. Check your contacts in the underground, it was a flame-filled bloodbath. Not one of them escaped."

Marietta's gaze shifted unconsciously, glinting with a kind of vindictive satisfaction. She was obviously pleased with Raymond's actions and being given proof that she had not read the young fugitive wrong.

"What happened to the women and children, chéri?"

The familiar pang of guilt unfurled inside Rosalie's gut, making itself at home once more.

"They were murdered long before I was rescued."

Rosalie couldn't lift her gaze from her lap, the weight of her own self-blame crushing in its intensity. "It was my fault," she whispered on the end of a sob, "I fought back, so the others did too. There came an altercation in the corral with the guards. The only thing that saved me from the carnage was the hefty price on my head. The others…nobody was coming for them. It was my fault, Maman. My fault."

Marietta gathered Rosalie back into her arms, rocking her gently once more as the tears fell in earnest. "Why did you not send for us, Rosalie?"

It took a moment for her to respond before she hiccupped, "I couldn't. I needed to have my feet under me before I brought Florian into it. He's so protective Marietta, I know how upset he will be and I'm just not ready to handle it. Everything's crumbled to ruin, and I just...can't. I can't deal with any of it right now."

"There there, chéri. I understand. We will keep Florian in the dark a little while longer."

"He'll be so angry," fretted Rosalie, who stood and began pacing the room, "I can't ask you to keep such a secret from him."

"I do not relish keeping things from my husband," Marietta shrugged, "But it is your choice, Rosalie. Your duty is to no one but yourself. If I can see your reasoning, Florian will surely understand as well. Now tell me about Raymond, what reasons did he give for ending your relationship? The last I heard the two of you were utterly inseparable."

Rosalie dabbed the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief, "Delusions of nobility." A watery chuckle escaped her, "He decided it was too dangerous for us to be together; that he was too dangerous for me. What I wanted meant nothing. With the German pinning a target on Raymond's back, he decided I would be safer if our relationship ended...I decided I needed physical space to come to terms with the choice he made."

"Foolish boy," tutted Marietta, peering wistfully out the window. "He will learn quickly that never works..."

It took several minutes of pacing for Rosalie to fully come back to herself, lost in her own thoughts until she finally heaved an exasperated sigh, "What do I do to make him understand, Maman?"

It was Marietta's turn to laugh, the sound bringing a grumpy scowl to Rosalie's already dour features. "Chéri, at this moment you can only do what is best for you. Your happiness, your life must always take precedence. You are beholden to no man until you wish to be beholden to him."

'But I love him, Maman...'

The thought formed in Rosalie's mind without her bidding, and it took everything in her not to voice it aloud.

Marietta caught the subtle shift in her demeanor, however. Age and experience came with their perks after all.

Unfortunately, there was no cure for heartache, and so she stood and shooed the younger woman toward the ensuite, "Go. Bathe, have a stiff drink, and hold space for whatever emotions arise. You have all the time in the world to be the strong and formidable woman I know you to be, Rosalie. Tonight...don't be her. Allow yourself to feel what you feel so you can move forward. Trust me chéri, you will be the better for it."

Rosalie mechanically followed Marietta's direction, stopping to kiss her cheeks in gratitude, before pulling an expensive bottle of scotch from a secret compartment in the walk-in closet and heading for the bath.

---

Marietta waited until the sound of the taps running reached her ears before exiting the suite. It took only a step for her to be confronted by all three of Rosalie's guards, spouting questions and concerns in a cacophony of whispers. She held up a firm, silencing hand.

"Que faites-vous tous éveillés?"

Cedric, Teddy, and Horace all managed to look a hair sheepish at the retort, having each defied her earlier command to leave.

"Madame-"

"Vous." Marietta turned on Horace with a sudden and intimidating ferocity, "Come with me."

He didn't dare argue.

Horace left Cedric and Teddy outside Rosalie's room and followed Madame Armel down to the first floor, where the library stood waiting in the townhouse's far side.

"Sit."

The command was thrown at him the moment the door was closed. Horace obediently took the seat in front of the partner's desk and waited for Marietta to speak.

She made a bit of a meal of fixing herself a glass of cognac, reluctantly pouring one for him as well.

"Drink."

The heavy crystal landed with a clunk on the small side table next to him.

Cognac was easily Horace's least favorite spirit, but again, he knew not to argue. He instead lifted the glass, nodding his gratitude and toasting Marietta's health before taking a stout sip.

The silence stretched uncomfortably as they drank. Horace's glass was half-empty when Marietta finally spoke.

"Did you really think we wouldn't find out, Horace?"

The man in question cleared his throat, "Madame?"

Marietta gracefully took up the seat opposite him, "You outright lied and once again waltzed away from duty when you were already on such treacherously thin ice..."

"I know my departure was not approved by Florian-"

She laughed, a cold, hollow sound, "Florian Armel is the least of your concerns now, boy."

Horace was either brazenly self-assured or exceptionally stupid. He sat a little taller and cleared his throat again, his argument at the ready. "Rosalie was on the verge of losing everything, Madame Armel. Her empire could have crumbled to ruin had the German succeeded; I couldn't delay my departure by going through the necessary channels. She needed me."

"You were out of her confidence." Marietta's closely guarded fury was beginning to make itself known, "After you abandoned her at the worst possible moment, you have the audacity to consider yourself her savior? She did not need you, and your 'departure' was nothing short of defection."

An angry flush spread up from Horace's neck, "They were closing in on her from all sides-"

Marietta cut across him with ease, "She did not build this empire alone, Horace. Tell me, are you so foolhardy as to believe you and Theodore are Rosalie's only security? Do you honestly believe I would ever allow my daughter to go gallivanting the globe with one of the world's most sought-after fugitives without having a few contingencies in place?"

Horace looked confused for several long seconds before his face paled, "You've been following her."

"Of course I have," Marietta spat, "From the day Florian returned from Bulgaria, I've had my own team tracing Rosalie's every step."

"You can't do that-"

An ominous tickle began at the back of Horace's throat. He coughed compulsively once, then twice. Alarm bells started ringing inside his head, "What have you done?"

The dark, clever look on Marietta's face when Horace lifted his gaze to hers was nothing short of chilling. Her countenance was impassive, but behind her calm demeanor lingered a potent warning.

Panic flooded Horace's insides when he felt his lungs start to flutter and tighten of their own accord, an agonizing sensation that sent him into a fit of coughs. His body gave out from under him, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud.

Cedric burst through the door at the commotion, having obviously lingered to ensure Marietta's safety.

She nodded toward the open entry, silently acknowledging her gratitude and instructing him to close the door.

He did so, taking up position there while Marietta stood and circled to the desk's front, kneeling so she was nose-to-nose with Horace's convulsing form.

"Regarde Moi." She clutched his jaw and directed his face back to hers, "Look. At. Me."

Horace could barely see beyond the black haze creeping into his vision, but when he finally managed to bring Marietta into focus, he saw a dark, murderous glint lurking behind her gaze. She pulled a syringe from her jacket pocket and waved it in front of his face.

"Make no mistake, Horace Asim Jabare; Corsica does not forget. Our allies wait in the shadows, eager to ship your head to Porto Vecchio in a box for the mere possibility of garnering our favor. I am here to make sure you understand...even under Rosalie's protection, the sole reason you continue to draw breath-" she punctuated the word with the muffled 'pop' of her thumb sending the syringe's cap flying, "...is that I allow it."

Just as Horace was sure he was going to pass out, a sharp sting seared his jugular. As quickly as it came, the pressure in his chest dissipated and his lungs heaved, expanding as far as they could before deteriorating into another coughing fit.

Marietta stood once more, dropped the used syringe in the bin, and took up her glass of cognac.

"If you abandon her again, if you are anything short of Rosalie's most fervid ally, if you set one single toe outside of the haven my daughter has created for you...Le Milieu will be waiting. Comprenez vous?"

Horace rolled onto his side, still sputtering but nodding his understanding.

"You are a lucky man, Horace. Tonight you escape with your life. Now get out of my sight."

It didn't take more than a millisecond for Horace's boots to catch on the floor, vaulting him to his feet and out the door without a look back, knowing any hesitation on his part would be an invitation for far more heinous acts.

Meanwhile, Marietta and Cedric remained cloistered in the office, the latter closing the door to ensure their privacy once more.

Once certain Horace was out of earshot, the two began conspiring in rapid French.

"That was certainly a bold move...I'm not next on your docket, am I Maman?"

Marietta sauntered over to the bar cart, taking out a clean glass and pouring Cedric a few stout fingers. "Oh hush young man, you know as well as I Horace's pride will never allow him to divulge what I just did. He will take this near-reckoning to his grave if it's the last thing he ever does."

Cedric took the glass and waited for Madame Armel to take her seat once more before settling into the leather armchair at her right side. "I wish you had just let him expire. I do not trust his intentions with Rosalie, it would be best to be rid of him."

He watched as Marietta's head wavered back and forth, "I share your concerns, Cedric. We have all been distrusting of Horace since he vacated his role in Rosalie's syndicate. If you wish to stay and keep an eye on him, I will see to it that Florian is accommodating. However, despite his questionable intentions, I believe the one rock upon which we can rest our certainties is that Horace's loyalty to Rosalie is unyielding. He seems adamant on ensuring her safety, if not a little zealous. With that in mind, may I ask your opinion of Theodore?"

A few minutes passed as Cedric fully considered his answer.

"Rosalie trusts him implicitly. Teddy's still a bit green, but he stepped up without question when Horace left them in the lurch. In my eyes, Ted is easily the more trustworthy of the two. Do you have reason to believe otherwise?"

Marietta's fingers tapped rhythmically against the heavy crystal of her glass, "Rosalie mentioned the German knew they were going to be in Colombia. He knew where and when, exactly."

"Your point?"

She swirled her glass of cognac and contemplated the golden hue for several long seconds before she brought it to her lips. A healthy sip accompanied amber irises peering over the crystal rim at Cedric. "I don't trust Horace, but I cannot deny he had been out of her employ for six months at the time of her abduction. He and Rosalie weren't even speaking. He couldn't have been the source of the leak, not without assistance. There's no evidence to implicate Theodore, but it looks as though he was the only one with intimate knowledge of her movements during that time."

Cedric shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The implication of such a betrayal made his gut tighten unpleasantly. "There is still a chance the intel came from Reddington's side of the operation. We will be able to better discern which side held the leak now that the two of them are moving separately. Either way, I do not think it wise for me to leave her just yet. I do not trust Horace out of principle, regardless if the logic implicates his innocence. If her location hasn't been leaked in the next month or so, I believe I can reasonably return to Corsica."

"Do not tell her of our suspicions just yet," Madame Armel advised with a shrewd nod at the door, "Rosalie is already on the brink, dismantling her faith in her guard without absolute certainty would only serve to harm her in turn."

Cedric nodded his agreement, then wavered, "Madame I must ask...t he shadow escort you've placed on Rosalie, do you trust them implicitly?"

She gave the question some thought before she replied, "Without question. They have each been in my own personal guard at some point in time, I do not doubt their loyalty in any facet. Why do you ask?"

A pointed look was direct at Marietta, "Because we all know someone is divulging Rosalie's whereabouts. If it is not her guard, how can you be sure the men in the escort are not the ones leaking her location? If they are supposed to be there for her protection, why did they not intervene in Colombia?"

Marietta's lips pursed into a thin line, "Because the shadow escort relies on my knowledge of Rosalie's whereabouts, not intel from Rosalie's syndicate. They could not have provided the cartel the information leading to her abduction, as I did not know she would be there until she and Raymond were already boarding the plane. The escort made it to Colombia right on their tail, but Rosalie is exceptionally good at what she does. My men were wandering around Bogota for weeks, without the slightest clue as to where they took up residence. They can only protect what they can track, and Rosalie has made tracking her movements utterly impossible."

Cedric uncrossed and recrossed his legs, fidgeting about until he finally was forced to ask the last question that was needling at him. "Does she know? Rosalie, does she know you've been

"...No," Marietta admitted a tad ruefully, "I did not want her to think I did not have faith in her abilities. I merely wanted to ensure her safety. After everything that has happened, however, I wonder what use they have when they can't keep eyes on her."

The pair sat for several long moments in comfortable silence before Cedric murmured, "Don't send them away. Rosalie needs the extra muscle now more than ever. That said, you should tell her; if she knew there was secondary security waiting, she may be more forthcoming with her location. It couldn't hurt."

---

Rosalie exited the shower some thirty minutes later, utterly exhausted. She shuffled back into the bedroom, eyes an angry red, though completely dry as she slumped onto the bench at the foot of the bed.

Marietta seemed to appear out of thin air, toting a men's button-down she undoubtedly lifted from Rosalie's things. She unfurled it around the younger woman's shoulders and gently helped guide her arms through its sleeves.

"I shouldn't have kept it-" Rosalie confessed with a note of chagrin, but a gentle shush from Marietta quieted her feeble disagreement.

Madame Armel plucked a comb from the nearby vanity, gestured for Rosalie to turn around, then set about combing gently through the damp blonde tendrils.

Nimble hands made quick work of plaiting Rosalie's hair into a smooth french braid. Once finished, Marietta coaxed Rosalie into bed without a fuss, turned to the wall of tall arching windows, and closed the heavy curtains, effectively shutting out the first shocks of moonlight to cast the room in total darkness once more.

She moved back to the bed, sitting briefly on its plush surface to bid Rosalie goodnight.

A gentle, loving hand reached out to brush a few damp strands away from her daughter's eyes, which were already fighting a losing battle to stay open.

"Sleep, ma fille. When you wake, the path forward will unfurl before you."

---

Rosalie's Apartment - Place Furstenberg, Paris, France - Late Afternoon - March 23rd, 2000

"What the hell happened to you? You look terrible."

"Shut up, Teddy."

"Quiet, both of you."

"Why, is she still sleeping?"

"Why don't you bugger off back to Corsica, Cedric. Florian's bound to be suspicious of your absence by now."

"Not half as suspicious as he is of your absence, Horace."

"Wait, Florian doesn't know you left?"

"We can handle it from here."

"I don't think so. I will be moving with Rosalie for as long as she wishes."

"But what about Corsica?"

"You can't be serious. Florian will have your head soon if you don't go back-"

"You let me handle my husband," intervened Marietta, her voice cracking like a whip to silence the three bickering bodyguards.

A tense hush fell across the table when the double doors leading from the home's east wing swung wide.

Rosalie strode forward, the steady click of her heels on the marble floor the only sound breaking the quiet of the room. Her usual attire was neatly pressed, accentuated by the dark leather holster spanning her shoulders, showcasing the gun and spare clip she'd been keeping on her at all times. Her countenance had improved; a touch of makeup easily hiding the drawn features she had developed over several stressful weeks, and the wealth of riotous curls on her head had dried smooth and soft overnight.

She looked more like herself in that moment than she had in the past month.

Upon reaching the sprawling dining room table, Rosalie remained standing.

Marietta's chin lifted proudly when her daughter took a deep, steadying breath then began dictating her plan of action without a drop of hesitation.

"I know things have been rather hectic these past few months, and for that, I apologize. The nature of my movements will change from here on out to ensure both my safety and yours, as well as refocus on the needs and development of my own syndicate. This past week alone I've had thirty clients request accommodations in and around Saudi Arabia. I've only been able to accommodate twelve of them. It's high time I put my efforts toward building out that region of the network." She turned to Marietta, seemingly the first on her list, "Maman, s'il vous plaît, could you spare Caspian and the Gulfstream for a month or so? I assure you I will cover the fuel, mileage, and insurance on the jet, as well as Caspian's fees and expenses. I need further mobility and enough time to vet a pilot, stewardess, and purchase my own aircraft."

"But of course, chéri."

Rosalie turned back to her guards, "I will be insisting on much stricter security from this point forward. Nobody gets to me without going through you. No meetings or phone calls, not so much as a carrier pigeon is to make its way to me without being properly vetted. Horace, I would like you to start by contacting my property manager in Yemen, I will need to stay at the newest safe house for the next week until other arrangements can be made."

She rotated to her right-hand side, not bothering to wait for a response."Teddy, you and I will be reviewing logistics for the new expansion during the flight, please make sure the necessary folios are brought aboard."

Rosalie then looked to the man nearest her, "Cedric, if I can keep you a little while longer, I would very much appreciate your guidance as well."

The silence which followed was deafening, each of the three men a bit gobsmacked at the change which had happened in Rosalie overnight.

She'd gone from lovestruck and heartbroken to cunning and assured, carrying herself with the familiar poise they had all grown to dearly miss in the past several weeks.

Marietta nodded approvingly, turned to the trio and quipped, "Well, you heard her, hop to it gentleman."

They had each vaulted out of their seats when one of the burner phones jingled loudly.

Teddy looked apologetically around the room, reached into his jacket, and pulled the device from within, glancing briefly at the numbers on the screen.

"It's Reddington." He held the burner out to Rosalie.

She had just stated she would not be taking client calls...but surely that wouldn't apply to Ray?

Much to everyone's surprise, she shook her head. "I'm just not ready to talk with him, Ted."

Horace stepped forward. "I can handle his needs," he assured, his eyes gentle on Rosalie, "You're right, you need a degree of separation until you're ready to face Reddington; I can give you that Rosalie."

A hesitant frown pulled at her lips as Rosalie considered Horace for a long moment.

Cedric and Marietta bore identical scowls but said nothing.

The phone turned over and over in Ted's palm, buzzing and lighting up with the familiar number for Red's burner. She finally nodded, and Teddy held it out for Horace to take.

The latter had just turned to pick up the call when Rosalie murmured a quick, "Be kind about it, Horace."

He gave a curt nod, opened the phone, and stepped out into the hall.

---

A raised voice echoed from one of the nearby bedrooms when Teddy exited the safe house vaults, having just fished the appropriate folios from their depths.

"You're not getting through to her, Reddington...I've already told you she doesn't want to speak to you...You're not getting anywhere near her again-"

Ted hurtled toward the room in question, gripped the handle, and flung the door wide.

"Horace!"

Horace whipped around and waved for Ted to shut up. Another softer but equally irate voice could be heard snarling indiscernibly through the phone's small earpiece.

"Your accommodations going forward will be handled by Teddy and myself." The statement held a harsh note of finality, "Might I suggest the next time you call you consider being a touch more polite."

Teddy threw his hands up in the air, glaring at Horace in complete outrage and disbelief when he snapped the burner closed. "The one thing Rosalie asked you to do-"

"Oh don't give me that bollocks." Horace's eyes rolled, "Just stop. For once, stop and think of her first-"

"I am thinking of her first!" Ted snarled, wresting the phone from the other man's grasp, "She trusted you with handling Raymond and doing it in a way which she would approve. Rosalie explicitly told you not to be an asshole."

"He was the one who started the bellowing!" Horace hurried to close the door Ted had left open, "Reddington was shouting, demanding to be put through to Rosalie. Would you rather I bring him to her in such a state?"

"No, but that doesn't excuse-"

"I am doing my job, Teddy. I'm protecting Rosalie against the person from which she is working so hard to distance herself. Don't drag her into it because it didn't go the way she thought it would. She wanted me to be kind, and I was until the bastard exploded over not being allowed to reach her. This is precisely what she's asking of us. Can you imagine if she had taken the call, how upset she would be at him being so very angry with her?"

Teddy's brows furrowed, "Raymond wouldn't be angry with her, surely. You saw him when she left, he was devastated, but ultimately acquiesced to her wishes. He always does-"

Horace shook his head vehemently, "Now that he's had the night to stew over it, his tune has completely changed. You didn't hear the other end of the conversation Ted, I wouldn't have put it past him to yell and scream at Rosalie too."

The scowl on Ted's face deepened. His gut told him Raymond would never speak to any woman in such a way, let alone Rosalie. Yet, this was what she had asked them to do. She wanted distance, and try though they would to be diplomatic in maintaining that distance, there would no doubt be tension over this new boundary for some time. At the end of the day, Teddy's concern was for Rosalie, and if this was the outcome of her desire for solitude, who was he to question?

Teddy's silence was as good as an agreement, as far as Horace was concerned. "Come on," he said, "Keep this between us; I'll help you get things ready for the departure."

---

Three weeks later...

Marietta's Jet - Yemen Airspace - April 12, 2000

The main burner phone jangled from the depths of Horace's jacket pocket.

The heavy leather garment was draped carelessly over the seat closest to Rosalie, who sat entrenched in a sea of paperwork and photographs.

She scowled at the noisy bit of plastic, then turned toward her guards.

Cedric, Teddy, and Horace were fast asleep, sprawled across reclining seats and sofas with mouths slack and soft snores rattling every so often.

The sound made Rosalie smile until the phone rang out again.

The new boundaries for Rosalie's syndicate had worked out well for most of the three weeks following her and Raymond's separation. A few minor disagreements had erupted between her guard and various clients demanding an audience, but it was nothing Teddy and Horace couldn't handle.

Cedric was gracious enough to stay the whole of those three weeks. His comforting presence along with twice-a-week therapy sessions with Dr. Tiller saw Rosalie finally begin to recover from the emotional upheaval she'd been through. Her ire had tempered somewhat, she had coping tools to get through the overwhelming days, and despite a contingent of upcoming acquisitions and a property manager in London that was acting out of pocket, Rosalie was finally beginning to feel comfortable in her newfound solitude.

That being said, she hadn't taken a call from a client in some time, and the thought now filled her with anxiety.

'The newest round of properties have only just begun, and it's the dead of night in Tajikistan, what's the worse that could happen?' She thought, deciding to give the boys a reprieve and let them sleep.

Lifting the device, Rosalie pressed the answer button and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

"…Rosalie?"

It was Dembe.

The sound of his voice nearly made her drop the phone.

Scrambling to get a firm hold on the slippery bit of plastic, Rosalie brought the thing to her ear once more. "Dembe? Is that really you?"

A glance at the nearby clock reminded her it was just past four in the morning in Red's location.

"You're up awfully late. Is everything alright sweetheart?"

A telling silence followed the question, making Rosalie's insides chill as though plunged into iced water.

"…Dembe? Is he okay? Are you okay?"

He hadn't said their codeword yet, but the hesitation in his voice was enough to set Rosalie on edge.

"There was an incident," Dembe finally responded, his words coming slow and measured, "The German unearthed our location while Raymond was out of the safe house. He was ambushed."

A hand flew up to Rosalie's mouth, catching the sharp gasp she emitted before it woke her guards. "My god, is he okay? Dembe, please tell me he's okay-"

And just like that, any ground Rosalie felt she had gained in her time away from Red crumbled to ruin beneath her. Her heart clenched at the thought of something happening to him, reminding her that despite the distance and lack of communication, the love she felt for him did still abide.

"He's fine, just a minor bullet wound-"

"Bullet wound?"

The exclamation stirred the occupants at the other end of the plane, but thankfully only Horace fully woke. He stood abruptly and made his way over to Rosalie, offering to take the call.

His hand was waved aside, the phone still glued to Rosalie's ear.

"Who shot him?" Rosalie pressed once more, "What on earth was he doing out at such a late hour? Where are you now?"

Dembe's voice soothed through the connection, "Everyone is alright Rosalie, I promise. We are in the air over Tajikistan, that's why I called. We are in need of a black site to lay low for the next week or so."

"Of course," Rosalie nodded to herself, sifting through the stack of papers and folios in search of what she needed.

Horace plucked the lockbox which held the master folio from the coffee table and handed it to her, then took the nearest seat.

She gave a nod of thanks, placed her thumb on the biometric scanner, and whipped the book from the box's confines once the lock sprung. "Islamabad is probably closest to you…" her fingers rifled quickly through the pages, keeping its interior hugged to her chest. "Yes, Kanwal is ready for occupancy, I can have transportation waiting for you at the underground's hidden airport, my team will just need Raymond's code to confirm.

"Thank you, Rosalie. I am sorry to bother you at such a late hour."

"You're never a bother," her voice dropped to a quiet murmur, "Will you…would you mind calling me when you're all safe?"

"Of course," Dembe assured, "It will be a few hours, but I will call you back at this number once we are within the safe house's walls. Thank you again, Rosalie."

"Any time, sweetheart."

The call ended with a soft click and a knowing look boring into the side of Rosalie's head.

"Let me guess…" Horace crossed his arms over his chest, "Reddington got himself into another bind?"

A haughty scowl greeted his words, and her tone was a warning one.

"The German unearthed his location, yes."

"I'm sure he managed to wriggle his way out as usual?"

"Of course he did."

The disparity of opinion where Raymond was concerned cultivated no small measure of animosity between them.

Horace was the first to break the stalemate, " You said they were heading to Islamabad. Who should I call?"

"No," said Rosalie, snapping the book shut when he moved to peer at the folio in her hands.

A somewhat awkward silence unfurled itself between the two.

"We've been so busy," she quickly amended, "You should go back to sleep, I'll take care of it. I didn't mean to wake you."

The corner of Horace's mouth twitched, "Alright, if you're sure."

Rosalie nodded, smiling wryly back. "Yes, I'm sure, goodnight Horace."

"Night, Rosie."

Horace meandered back to his previous seat and flopped back onto its welcoming surface with a groan.

Rosalie watched and waited, then took the burner in hand and dialed her property manager in Pakistan, her feet carrying her to the cockpit without thought.

"Sajjad I'm sorry to wake you, we have a client in need of emergency lodging and transport…"

---

Dubai, United Arab Emirates - April 12, 2000

The plane touched down shortly after five in the morning.

"This is not Jordan…" Cedric recognized the change of venue within seconds, moving to peer out of each of the jet's windows.

Teddy had painstakingly negotiated the purchase of a permanent hanger at the private airport they were supposed to have landed in outside Amman. The desert tarmac was a well-kept secret, run by a smugglers guild and maintained solely for the use and benefit of criminals, rebels, and various ne'er-do-wells.

"I decided to divert course to Dubai," said Rosalie, shrugging into her leather jacket. "I needed to come and do a final overview of the new safe houses anyway."

Horace halted in donning his own outerwear, "I don't suppose this has anything to do with Reddington?"

A warning look was Rosalie's only response.

Teddy nearly toppled out of his seat. "Ray called you? What happened? Is everything okay? It doesn't have anything to do with that property manager that's gone awol, has it?"

"I handled it," Rosalie held up a reassuring hand, then grabbed the burner in question and tucked it safely inside one of her many pockets.

"There was a small hiccup. They were still in Tajikistan, so it's definitely not related to the Norrick issue. You and I will review what happened later today after we've all eaten and had a moment to rest. For now, everything has been taken care of and we will be staying in Dubai. We'll make the move to Jordan in a few weeks."

The three men nodded their understanding and followed Rosalie out of the jet, then into the hold of the secure vehicle waiting for them on the tarmac.

A twenty-minute drive was all it took to reach the newest Emirates black site, a gorgeous sprawling villa along the western edge of Dubai's shoreline.

"Merde, I forgot just how big this place is…"

Rosalie set her suitcase on the entryway's pristine marble floor with a resined thunk, perusing the home's interior with a critical eye.

The sweeping foyer extended before them, glimmering and strikingly beautiful beneath the glow of an enormous crystal chandelier. The soaring arcs of the home's ceilings gave it an airy feel, but the textiles Rosalie had selected warmed the space considerably.

Her design prowess had been put to the test with this newest expansion, taking her traditional style and weaving it with Moroccan, Arabic, and Islamic influences. The resulting confluence of aesthetics weaved seamlessly into the living spaces ahead, the path splitting in either direction halfway down the hall.

Disregarding her belongings, Rosalie gestured in the direction of the bedrooms and bid the boys goodnight. They responded in kind and gave her the privacy she desired.

It was still dark outside. Moonlight poured through the dozen arched doorways lining the hallway which Rosalie knew would lead to the study. Ivory curtains billowed in the soft breeze, the thin gossamer casting shadows here and there amongst the tiled floor as she walked.

A vaulted archway at the end of the hall marked her destination, and she slipped into its hold without hesitation.

A brief glance around the room confirmed the photographs Rosalie's team took hadn't done the space justice.

The study was new construction, but one would never know by looking at it. It bore weathered bookshelves bursting with first editions that would put any private library to shame. The space was cluttered in all the best ways. Prints, sketches, and oil paintings all fought for space on the walls, two sofas and two pairs of armchairs created an intimate cluster about a steel coffee table laden with more thick tomes and warm candles.

Rosalie looked up at the flickering lights above her, smiling at the three dozen Turkish lanterns she had chosen instead of a chandelier. It was time-consuming for her associates to light, but the effect was well worth it.

She was drawn from the twinkling glimmer by the sound of the burner phone ringing from her pocket once more.

"Dembe?" Rosalie cradled the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she shimmied out of her jacket, "Did you make it to Islamabad?"

"Yes," he assured, "We are all here safe and sound. Thank you for accomodating us on such short notice."

His formality made Rosalie snigger in spite of herself, "Sweetheart, you do realize I would never leave you high and dry, right?"

The comment managed a small, deep chuckle from Dembe.

A beat of silence stretched several long moments. Each struggled to find their way back to the easy friendship they'd kindled over the past year and a half.

"...How are you?" Rosalie finally asked, breaking the ice in a tentative whisper.

"I am quite well," said Dembe, "And you?...How are you feeling?"

His real ask lingered in the space between question and answer.

'Are you recovering? Are you coping? When are you coming home?'

These weren't questions Rosalie could answer just yet.

"I'm alright."

Dembe's tone turned playful, "Just alright, hmm?"

Rosalie couldn't help a small smile, "Yeah, just alright. I miss you. All of you."

"We miss you too. All of us."

"Is it me you miss or my cooking?" She teased, enjoying the throaty chuckle that echoed over the line. "Mind, I'm still waiting for you to tell me why Raymond was out of the safe house tonight."

"Where are you these days?" Dembe asked, tactful in his refusal to answer despite his amusement.

Rosalie scoffed, but answered, "Dubai, at the moment."

A telling silence swallowed the conversation.

"You're not far."

Dembe's tone made her frown.

"I was already in the area," she insisted, "The same region, at the very least. It was a minuscule detour, I needed to check on the new properties here anyway."

"Mhm..."

Rosalie could tell without seeing that Dembe was grinning that knowing smile, completely unconvinced that she didn't just alter her course to be nearby.

"Oh hush, you."

She couldn't help but titter as he fell into another bout of deep chuckles.

"So you are expanding again. That is good. Tell me about it..."

---

Amsterdam - June 1, 2000

"You're sure you don't want me to come along with you?"

Nearly two months had passed, and Cedric's departure for Corsica could be put off no longer.

His bags were packed, his hat and sunglasses in hand as he stood in the safe house's foyer bidding Rosalie goodbye.

She kissed his cheeks fondly when a wry smile pulled at her lips, "I would love to keep you with me, but Florian needs you, and I desperately need you to keep him off my back a little while longer."

"Rosalie…" he groaned, already dreading the argument he and Florian would be having that night when Cedric turned up empty-handed.

Florian had been restless back in April, it was now June and Rosalie knew the man was positively seething. There was no doubt he knew something had happened, and he was livid with Cedric and Marietta keeping him in the dark.

He was even more upset with Rosalie for remaining completely out of contact the whole time.

"Just a few more weeks Cedric, please? I promise I'll go to Corsica and explain everything, I just need a little more time to get this chaos squared away."

Rosalie could feel Cedric's eyes boring into the side of her head, trying to pry their way into her mind. She moved to help him with his bags, working valiantly not to cave under his stare.

A large, calloused hand reached out to grasp her own, its hold firm but gentle.

"I am on your side, sœur, but I do not wish to bear witness to the rift that could form between you and Florian should you withhold the truth from him much longer."

Rosalie turned and flung her arms around Cedric's neck, hugging him fiercely.

"I know you are. I promise to handle this quickly. I have to figure out what's happening with that property manager of mine in London. My network is too fragile to let this sort of thing slide. The moment the dust has settled, I'll make the flight to Corsica."

Cedric reciprocated the embrace, holding on tightly for several long moments. Finally, he released her, his fingertips pinching her cheeks playfully before he kissed her forehead. "Just be careful, bien?"

"Bien," she agreed, a bittersweet smile gracing her features.

Teddy came hurrying into the room with Horace hot on his heels.

"No, Ted-"

The former shoved Horace aside when he made to reach for the burner phone. "Rosalie there's an operator on the phone; Raymond just called the emergency line."

Rosalie rushed forward, taking the phone in hand without question. "Hello?"

The familiar voice of Clara, one of Rosalie's operational associates, filtered softly through the connection.

"Yes, Madame? Protocol indicates you should be advised whenever this particular client accesses your emergency transport network. I'm calling to inform you we've had a request come in three minutes ago from Fair Isle."

"Scotland?" Rosalie blurted, gaping at Teddy, "What on earth is he doing in Scotland? He's meant to be in London."

Teddy shrugged, "Dembe accessed the Abbey four days ago. There was no intel to lead us to believe Raymond wasn't with him."

"Madame," chimed Clara, "We have him en route on a private Cessna heading back to London as we speak. Would you like me to patch you through to him?"

"Wait-"

Both Horace and Cedric seemed to be questioning the idea.

"Put me through."

Rosalie weaved through the triad of her guard, moving in the direction of the office, whose lanterns glowed a soft golden yellow in the afternoon light.

It took several rings, so long that she nearly gave up; but then suddenly Rosalie could hear the hum of a plane's engine and the low rumble of that smooth, familiar voice.

"Yeah?"

A beat of silence.

"…Raymond?"

There was no response.

Rosalie could practically feel each pulse of blood pounding through her veins.

"Raymond?" She tried again, "What happened? Are you alright, darling?"

The endearment slipped past her lips without thought. The word made her cringe.

What was wrong with her? One word from him and it was as though the past three months had never even happened.

It had been so long since she'd heard his voice. Rosalie had forgotten what the sound of it did to her, the feelings it evoked.

"…Ray?"

She heard him sigh on the other end, then cough, a heinous watery cough that conjured up images of pain and grievous injury in Rosalie's mind.

At that moment, Ted poked his head into the office, brows raised in question.

"Call Dembe," she murmured, placing her hand over the receiver, "Something's wrong."

He nodded and left the room, his light footsteps carrying swiftly back down the hall.

"Come on Raymond," Rosalie whispered, eyes closed, willing him to speak once more, "Talk to me, tell me what happened."

"I was wrong to push you away. So very wrong...I didn't know it would be like this," he let out another bone-rattling cough, "I thought it was the right thing to do."

Rosalie's heart plummeted into the soles of her feet, "What are you talking about? What's happened?"

Raymond's breathing was shallow and labored, but she could still hear the soft smile in his voice.

"God, I've scarcely missed anything the way I've missed the sound of your voice these past months, little dove."

"Don't tell me that," she pleaded, "Don't-"

A barrage of emotions warred inside Rosalie, a part of her rejoicing in the knowledge that he had missed her, while another speculated that his change of heart stemmed merely from whatever injury he'd suffered.

"I didn't mean for you to get caught up in all this..." he slurred with sincerity, his shirt rustling against the microphone as his arms gesticulated, "...this mess."

"What mess?" She asked, admittedly confused as to what he could be referring to.

He grunted and coughed once more, doing his best to turn away from the phone's mic. "Me. My mess. I took up the mantel; I knew better than to bring you into it."

Alarm bells started to go off in the back of Rosalie's mind. Whatever mantel Raymond had taken up before they met, she was certain he wanted to keep it a secret. He'd been unyielding in the protection of his past, and she doubted very much that he would be willingly bringing it up to her now.

She quickly moved to change the subject, "Why don't you tell me why you were in Scotland, Ray?"

"You told me to be selfish with you," he continued to ramble, heedless of her questions, "I was being selfish. I got involved with you, put you in harm's way because I was selfish. I just-"

A mournful sigh could be heard leaving his lips.

"I just loved the way you made me feel."

Rosalie sank into the nearest chair, her free hand shielding her eyes which burned with moisture all over again.

She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to hear these sweet nothings murmured in that deep, comforting voice she missed so terribly. If Rosalie wasn't careful, she would begin to recall with devastating accuracy those early morning hours spent wrapped up in Raymond's arms, his lazy whispers tickling the nape of her neck.

Her heart couldn't take those memories just yet.

Heavy teardrops started to trickle down her cheeks, the agony she felt punctuated by Raymond's dry, cruel laugh

"Raymond Reddington...The Raymond Reddington. I will go down in history as one of the most reviled criminals to walk this planet, but you," she heard that smile enter his fading voice once more, "You made me feel like I was something-"

He took so long to find the word, Rosalie started to fear that he had passed out. "...Raymond?"

"Something...priceless," he mumbled, his words slurring into one another like molasses. "God, I miss that."

A series of hacking coughs echoed through the speaker, making Rosalie wince.

"Keep talking to me, Raymond. We're contacting Dembe, just stay on the line. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"No..." he grumbled, "Secret. 's a secret and 'm too tired. Everything hurts."

There was no way of telling what shape he was in. He could be in dire need of medical attention and there would be no way of knowing. The thought made Rosalie's insides roil unpleasantly.

"Okay," she scrambled for the best course of action, "What about the pilot, Ray? Can you hand the phone to the pilot?"

The only response was a loud THWACK and a low voice spouting curses.

"Bleedin idiot...Why don't ya just throw a brick at me head?...Yeah, yeah, what'ya want?"

The brusque question in its thick Glasgow accent took Rosalie by surprise. She stammered, "My client, is he injured? What's wrong with him? He seems dazed and out of sorts."

The open cockpit was noisy, forcing the pilot shout to be heard. "He's fine m'am! 'e just looks like some bloke gave him a good laldy, nothing a bit of ice and aspirin won't help."

Rosalie had no idea what a laldy was, but the man's response was at least a little reassuring. "How long until you reach London? Can he go without medical attention until you arrive?"

"Aye," the man bellowed, "I'm about five hours from London at the mo'. Should be coming down about half-past five."

"Thank you...can you hand me back to him?"

"Nah m'am, your man's out like a light."

Ted walked into the room, another burner in hand, "Dembe doesn't know what happened. Raymond left to handle a pressing matter and hadn't returned. Has Ray said anything?"

Rosalie shook her head, then returned her attention back to the pilot. "Private Hangar 17 will be waiting for you at Blackbushe Airport, along with a ground transport team. Please call once he is en route to the safe house."

She waited long enough for the man to confirm, then hung up and shot out her chair, "Call Caspian, we're leaving for London immediately."

---

Five hours later...Marietta's Plane - Private Hangar # 18, Blackbushe Airport - London, UK

"Where are you going?"

Ted cinched his bag shut with but one querulous look at Horace, "I'm taking Rosalie to the Abbey."

Horace threw his hands up in the air, the exasperation he'd been stewing in the whole flight now finally complete. "You're taking her to Reddington, you mean. Are you kidding me? She's spent the past three months getting over him and the moment he calls you all are content to drop everything and do his bidding?"

Dropping his bag to the floor, Ted turned and said, "I am taking Rosalie where she wants to go, because that is my job. Or have you forgotten that you work for her and not the other way around?"

"I'm her guard too," gritted Horace, "I want what's best for her, and you know Reddington's not it. If I were her right hand, I wouldn't-"

"You aren't her right hand." Ted cut the argument off at the knees, no longer willing to entertain his compatriot's boorish behavior, "I'm the head of her security. Where she wishes to go, I will follow. So get your shit and get in the bleeding car."

Cedric had exited the cockpit in the middle of their argument. He set his bag by the door and leveled the bickering pair an impassive stare, "Horace would like to be the hero," he said with an air of condescension, focusing his gaze on the man in question. He turned back to Teddy, "Let him. He can scour the city and find out what happened to that property manager who's gone rogue."

"Fine," said Ted, hoisting his suitcase from the ground just as Rosalie was exiting the rear of the plane.

"Right, are we ready then?"

Teddy removed his sidearm from its holster and ushered Rosalie out into the hangar.

Cedric ignored Horace's sputtered protests in favor of following closely behind the others.

They had already boarded their transportation by the time Rosalie recognized there was a member of her guard missing.

"Where's Horace?"

"Rather than have him and Raymond at each other's throats, Teddy and I thought it best he focus on investigating Norrick."

Rosalie nodded thoughtfully, finally giving a sigh and gesturing for Ted to start the car. "Thank you. I believe that was for the best. I can't deny I was dreading having those two in the same house, particularly if Raymond is hurt. He always was cantankerous when he was convalescing. I doubt Horace would have given him a moment's peace."

They passed hangar #17 on their way out, noting the Cessna jet that was tucked in its darkened depths.

"The pilot called, Raymond's already en route to the safe house..." Rosalie's fingers fidgeted in her lap, "Take the sidestreets, Ted, it'll be faster."

The car settled into a tense silence as they sped through traffic in the direction of The Abbey.

"Did Dembe provide any insight as to what happened?"

Teddy looked up to find a pair of dark eyes watching him expectantly through the rear-view mirror.

"No," he replied, "Unfortunately you will have to get that out of him yourself. He was not divulging any information no matter how hard I pushed."

"Hmm…"

It wasn't uncommon for Raymond to be withholding when it came to Rosalie's guard. He held his comings and goings most covetously, and in truth, Rosalie couldn't blame him. She settled back into her seat with the expectation that Dembe would tell her everything once they arrived.

Speaking of which…

"Did anyone alert the others that we were coming?"

Surreptitious glances were exchanged in the mirror once more.

"Obviously not," said Cedric, "Well, I hope they like surprises…"

---

Black Site #88 - "The Abbey" - Undisclosed Location - London, United Kingdom - Early Evening - June 1, 2000

"It's been five days..."

"I know..."

"Should we-?"

"Vincent hasn't said anything..."

"He could be withholding...did you make the call as scheduled?"

"Of course I made the call!"

Kate and Dembe paced the abbey's living room, once again out of productive things to do. They could only wait and trust that Raymond knew what he had gotten himself into.

In truth, all had gone according to plan until the bomb the IRA had planted on the Hammersmith bridge detonated. That was more than twelve hours ago, and they had yet to hear from Raymond.

The only intel they had was a call from Teddy, asking what had happened to Reddington.

Knowing Red did not want anyone outside his inner circle knowing about his contact with Mi6, Dembe was forced to skirt the truth. He'd told Teddy Raymond had left to handle a pressing matter, but nothing more.

They now knew that Raymond had contacted Rosalie's emergency line, and was en route to the safe house. In what condition they would find him, however, remained to be seen.

"I don't like this, Kate."

Kate had stopped pacing some moments ago, and now sat in one of the large club chairs adorning the home's lounge. "None of us do. There are too many variables, but we have no other recourse for pursuing Maharaj and his compatriot. If Raymond is on his way back, he must have escaped Mi6 custody in some form or another. We can only wait."

Dembe scratched his head, the bald surface glinting with refracted light from the chandelier overhead. "Do you think he managed the immunity agreement? I find it doubtful if he contacted Rosalie's network to get him out."

"I'm confident we can assume the negotiations did not go well," said Kate, her thin lips pursed in a disapproving frown, "The question becomes whether or not Agent Knightley has been promoted for her efforts. If his capture did not manage that much, this will have all been for naught."

A low chiming noise broke up their speculating.

Kate and Dembe turned in the direction of the sound, recognizing it as one of the home's alarms. It signaled the arrival of a vehicle in the primary garage bay. They would have a minute, perhaps two before whoever it was would be on them.

The pair shared a nervous look and drew their weapons, rushing to the nearest stone column and filing into its hidden elevator.

The capsule took them down to the subterranean portion of the home, where alternate vehicles, contraband, and the abbey's robust security systems were all stored. A low, mechanical hum could be heard as the docking ramp descended into the dark tunnel which lead to the primary garage bay.

Dembe took up his post behind one of the massive stone pillars and signaled for Kate to follow. There was just enough room between the pillar and the wall for him to aim the handgun directly at the opening, where he stared expectantly waiting for the newcomer to arrive.

Minutes passed before a bright light illuminated the opening, splitting into two as the front of a jet black sedan came speeding up the ramp.

The vehicle was readily recognizable as one of Rosalie's town cars, and both Dembe and Kate breathed a sigh of relief as it revved into the parking structure then came to a screeching halt.

The driver leapt out of the front seat and wrenched open the rear passenger door as fast as he could, calling out, "Give me a hand, he's unconscious!"

Dembe stepped out from his hiding spot upon seeing Red slumped in the backseat.

Kate followed close behind, stowing her gun and calling down the elevator.

The two men hoisted the third out of the vehicle and managed to chair-carry him into the elevator.

Prodding the requisite button for the second floor, Kate wasted no time in whipping out her medical flashlight and checking Red's pupils.

To her surprise, he made a muffled groan and attempted to bat the annoyance away.

"He's responsive," she said, moving out of the way when the elevator opened to reveal the secondary master suite. "Put him on the bed there."

Once Raymond was settled atop the sheets, Dembe quickly ushered the driver back down into the underground, intent on getting any outsiders out of the safe house as quickly as possible.

The driver thankfully did not seem to wish to linger. He hurried into the driver's seat once more, prodded the code for exit into the garage's keypad, and took off down the dark tunnel without a word.

Dembe was just pressing the call button for the elevator when another chime could be heard to signal a car in the carport. He halted.

'Surely it wouldn't ring as someone's leaving?' He thought to himself, instantly suspicious.

He ignored the arrival of the elevator, and instead slipped into the shadows behind the pillar once more, waiting.

The bunker's floor lowered into the dark tunnel, and a pair of headlights soon came speeding out of it.

It was a completely different car. The color of the lights was completely different.

A click signaled the removal of the gun's safety, barely discernable over the growing roar of the vehicle's engine.

Dembe wasn't prepared for the series of events that occurred as a jet black Phantom came barreling up and out of the tunnel. Its tires screeched a little as it came to an abrupt stop just outside the ramp.

Its passenger wasted no time in flinging the door open and jumping out.

A familiar head of long blonde hair came first, followed by a pair of dark, fretful eyes and a worried frown.

Dembe holstered his firearm and rushed from the shadows, pulling Rosalie into a rib-cracking hug she was almost too surprised to reciprocate.

Finally, the shock subsided and her arms circled about him, holding her friend in a tight embrace.

"Dembe."

She whispered his name with the same bone-deep relief Dembe felt at having her back with them.

Rosalie pulled back to pat his cheek her lips giving a feeble smile. "Tell me what's happened. Where is he? Is he okay?"

---

Black Site #88 - "The Abbey" - Undisclosed Location - London, United Kingdom - Late Evening - June 1, 2000

Luckily enough, Rosalie'd had the foresight to pick up an underground physician on her way to the Abbey.

He and Kate were busily checking Raymond over while the others waited in the stone archway outside the bedroom.

Teddy and Dembe were chatting in soft voices while Cedric leaned against the wall at the foot of the nearby staircase, on the phone attempting to explain away his absence to Florian.

Rosalie stood between the former two and could be caught craning her neck at regular intervals, trying to get a glimpse of Red beyond the wall that Kate and the physician created.

"He was in bad shape when he called Rosalie, there's no way we would have stayed away- What exactly happened?"

"Raymond was working on a new contact and the exchange went awry."

Dembe was being as vague as ever, much to the others' chagrin.

"This contact, have they been dealt with?" Rosalie asked, finally tearing her eyes away from the master bedroom.

He gave a noncommittal shrug, "We will move forward once Raymond has recovered and decided what he wishes to do."

Thankfully for Dembe, Kate and the physician chose that moment to walk back out of the room.

All eyes fell on them, waiting.

"Mr. Reddington has been through a rough ordeal," said the physician, "He has walking pneumonia, a number of muscle strains, and no small amount of bruising, but he should recover just fine with the proper care. Exhaustion has completely depleted his energy stores, so do not expect him to wake for the next several hours. After that, he should be on bed rest, no less than seven days, Mr. Zuma."

Dembe nodded, his visage turning dour at the thought of trying to keep Raymond bed-bound for a week. "Is there anything else we should be worried about?

Kate offered her expertise, "The bruising on his limbs was dangerously close to some major nerves. When he wakes we will need him to tell us everything that happened so we can ensure nothing is damaged." She turned back to the physician, "Thank you, doctor, for your assistance."

"I can return you to your practice," Ted offered, quickly ushering the man down the steps and toward the elevator.

An awkward pause filled the space between the remaining foursome.

As usual, Cedric could be trusted to gracefully break the ice. "Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Kaplan?"

Kate took the subtle suggestion, stopping long enough to give Rosalie's hand a squeeze and bestow a rare, though wry smile.

Dembe and Rosalie were left in the quiet hallway, and the latter barely waited for the others to round the corner before whispering, "Can...Can I see him?"

"Of course," said Dembe, stepping aside so she could enter the dimly lit bedroom.

Moonlight poured through the massive stained glass window which occupied the wall opposite the bed.

There, scattered in a riot of refracted color, Raymond's body was still and eerily quiet.

Rosalie's footsteps faltered a few feet from him, wondering if she should even be there.

They were over. She wasn't anything to him anymore. It wasn't her place to want to care for him this way.

At the same time, it felt as though a ribbon of molten metal had unfurled between them, rooting itself to something deep inside Rosalie and pulling her toward Raymond like a magnet.

She wanted to go to him, but...

What if he woke up?

What if he didn't want her here?

Rosalie wasn't sure she could take his rejection, yet the sight of Raymond looking so weary and alone atop the blankets shattered any resolve she could muster before it took hold.

Heedless of her mind's warnings that this would only hurt her in the long run, Rosalie's feet carried her to the edge of the bed.

She pulled the scarf from her neck, dropping it carelessly on the bench at the foot of the bed. Lowering herself to sit beside Raymond, her hands reached out of their own accord. One took his hand in hers, the other brushed the short, rustled locks from his forehead.

"He's burning up," she whispered, touching cool fingertips to his warm cheeks.

Her breath hitched when he turned into the contact, searching for more.

Looking him over, Rosalie noted the array of bruises that ran in circles around his upper arms. Turning his hand over in hers, she could see more of the marks on his wrists. She traced her finger over the pattern, brows furrowed in recognition.

"Are you going to tell me what really happened?"

It took several long moments for Dembe to look up from Red's unconscious form. "I cannot."

Rosalie cocked her head in his direction, still cradling Raymond's cheek. Her thumb had begun to brush back and forth across its stubbled surface, soothing the burning skin underneath. "Dembe, I know damn well these are ligature marks; and walking pneumonia, inJune? I may not be in the business of prying information out of people, but even I know this wreaks of waterboarding and stress positions. He was tortured by someone Dembe, it's plain as day. Now, are you really not going to tell me what happened? Are you really not going to let me help?"

Dembe's dark eyes were beseeching, "Raymond was adamant no one should know his plans. No one, Rosalie..."

"...Not even me?" She finished for him, adding, "This secret plan of his, I'd venture to guess it involves the German?"

Rosalie huffed when Dembe pursed his lips in a tight line, adamant on keeping his word to Red. She took a few deep, cleansing breaths, willing the sudden flare of anger in her chest to subside.

The action did not go unnoticed by her friend. His brows quirked in question, having seldom ever seen Rosalie cross before.

"Honestly, if I didn't miss you so much I'd be livid."

The tension left the room as quickly as it came, and a wry smile greeted Dembe's sheepish grin.

The action made him breathe a sigh of relief. Though it pained him to keep Rosalie in the dark, and he truthfully believed she deserved to know what Raymond was getting himself into, his loyalty would not allow him to betray the man's confidence in such a way.

"I've missed you too," said Dembe, turning for the door. "I'm going to check on Kate, give you two a moment alone."

Rosalie tittered, "He's unconscious, there's no need-"

But he was already out the door, his feet carrying him down the stone steps two at a time.

Her eyes turned surreptitiously back to her ex, still out like a light. She examined his sleeping form once more, paying close attention to his torso, where his shirt was halfway undone, revealing his broad chest and the upper half of his stomach to the night air.

Rosalie's lip curled when she caught the edges of a bruise peeking through the gap in the fabric.

Triple-checking to ensure he was still asleep, she flicked another button open.

A grunt issued from Red's mouth, nearly sending Rosalie toppling off the bed and onto the floor.

When he still did not wake, she carefully peeled back the fabric to reveal more of the large, dark bruise forming there.

"Who did this to you, love?" The whisper escaped her unbidden once again, though this time she didn't cringe nearly as much.

In that moment alone in the dark bedroom, he was just Raymond. No secrets, no delusions of nobility, just the man she loved. He was hurt, and everything in Rosalie cried out to soothe those pains.

A huff of discomfort was the only reply his unconscious mind could muster. He didn't even know she was there.

'Perhaps it's better this way,' Rosalie thought to herself, reaching out to place a comforting hand over his heart. The erratic thrum beneath her fingertips soothed beat by beat into a steady rhythm.

Her own heart rate spiked when Red managed to grind out a single word.

"Hel-Help."

Rosalie was brought forcefully back to the fever dreams he had endured during his brief bout with Malaria last November.

"Screaming...she's screaming-"

Elizabeth.

Who was she to him? Why was this girl's safety the first thing on Raymond's mind whenever he was injured? "Elizabeth is safe, Raymond. I promise."

Red was starting to grow more restless, tossing and turning back and forth.

"No…"

"Shhh," she soothed, "She's okay Ray."

"No...burning. Everything...burning. "

Rosalie's frown deepened, knowing he was spiraling into the only memory that could truly torment him. She hurried to the ensuite, running a washcloth under the cold tap and wringing it out before returning to the bedroom.

Red was thrashing more violently, a sheen of sweat now shone on his brow and chest.

Dabbing at his face and neck, Rosalie shushed him gently, her voice reminding him at regular intervals that he was safe.

"Shhh, I'm right here. It's all over Raymond, you're safe here."

He groaned and leaned into the cold washcloth, a massive sigh of relief finally expelling from his lungs.

"Safe...I'm safe."

Without warning, an arm snaked around Rosalie's waist, tightening and pulling her to the mattress with more strength than she had expected in the man's present condition.

She fell back onto the bed with a muffled 'oof!', her legs draped ungainly over Red's.

"No no no-"

But it was too late. Rosalie was thoroughly entangled, pinned halfway beneath her former lover without a chance of pushing him off of her.

"Safe," he slurred drowsily, nuzzling his way beneath her jaw to bury his face in the crook of her neck. "Keep you safe..."

The last statement brought Rosalie's struggling to an immediate halt.

'Keep you safe...'

Did he know she was here?

"...Ray?"

There was no answer, only the steady sound of his breathing.

It took a few moments for Rosalie to calm, a part of her screaming that a line had been crossed, that she needed to leave now before it was too late.

But there was another much larger piece of her that sobbed with relief. The part that knew it was already too late.

'The last time you slept in his arms, you didn't even know it was going to be the last time. You're already here, what could it hurt?

The traitorous voice in the back of Rosalie's mind coaxed her mental walls ever lower, luring her back to the place where her love for Raymond still lingered, feeling that spot that made her soul ache.

She melted back into his hold as though she had never even left. Her lips found his temple, placing a small, chaste kiss to its warm surface as her traitorous hands wandered up his back and shoulders. Fingertips set to circling through his short locks, picking up their favorite pastime with ease.

"Okay," Rosalie whispered, giving in to what she knew would wreck her, "I'm here, you've got me. We're safe here."

---

Dembe, Teddy, and the others eventually gave up on Rosalie making another appearance. They waited an hour or so before retiring to the safe house's bedrooms, all quietly wondering if this meant Raymond had woken and the two were working out their differences.

It was wishful thinking, but they each held out hope that this would be the end of the standoff between them, at the very least.

It was Dembe who was eventually forced to tiptoe into the room hours later, a new IV bag in hand. What he found made him break out into an ear-to-ear grin.

Rosalie was nestled tightly in Raymond's hold, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in time with his own.

Another cleansing breath of relief filled Dembe's lungs as he quickly set about changing the IV.

Things could finally go back to normal. Rosalie would be moving with them again. They could all be happy again.

The comforting thoughts occupied the whole of Dembe's mind until his task was finished and he spared one more glance for the pair on the bed before making his exit.

What he saw, however, froze him on the spot.

A closer look at Rosalie showed her bottom lip give a feeble tremble. The faintest trails of moisture poured freely from the corners of her eyes. The shining beads trickled along her cheekbones to mingle with the fine curls framing her face.

She was crying.

"...Rosalie?"

Watery eyes slit open, at last giving light to the misery Rosalie felt inside.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't-" a shaky breath forced its way into her lungs, "I can't do this Dembe...I need him to let me go. I don't have it in me to push him away, but I- I need him to let me go."

Dembe rushed forward and helped extricate her from Raymond's tight grip. He watched helplessly while Rosalie's heart crumbled to further ruin as she pried the shards of herself from Red's unconscious form.

The man's hands clung to her with quiet desperation, following her retreat until there was nothing left to hold onto, dangling forgotten off the edge of the bed.

"I shouldn't have come," said Rosalie, realizing her mistake, "I'm not over him. I'm not over what happened. I'm so sorry Dembe...I have to go."

"Rosalie, wait-" Dembe pursued her out of the suite and into the stone hall, but another voice called out to him, halting them both in their tracks.

"...Dembe?"

Raymond was awake, if only barely.

Rosalie was rooted in the spot on the center of the stairs, watery eyes wide and beseeching. She looked at Dembe and gave a silent shake of her head, begging him without words to keep her presence a secret.

Dembe's head swiveled between the master suite and the stairs. Groaning softly to himself, he waved for Rosalie to go and turned back toward the master suite.

Inside, Raymond lay dazedly staring at the ceiling, fingers rubbing his temples in an attempt to soothe away a massive headache.

"Raymond," said Dembe, taking the seat Rosalie had vacated on the edge of the bed, "How are you feeling?"

A disgruntled groan was Red's only response for a moment. "...Like hell," he finally admitted, hand flopping back to the mattress.

A lengthy silence ensued as Dembe debated whether or not Raymond was aware of Rosalie's presence in the safe house.

"I had the strangest dream about Rosalie..."

The statement made Dembe sit up a little straighter, a tell Raymond thankfully missed while preoccupied with his own discomfort.

"I think I may have called her on the plane," he admitted, his voice a tad rueful, "Whatever you do Dembe, don't tell her what happened. I don't want her here for this. Not that she will even call but...you know what I mean."

A guilty weight formed in Dembe's stomach, tying his tongue in knots. He wanted to tell Raymond she'd not only called but arrived on their doorstep mere hours after he'd turned up injured. He wanted to tell him she was mere feet down the hall.

He wanted to tell Raymond the truth, but when he tried to speak, all he could think of was the agony on Rosalie's face as she fled the room.

Finally, he reached out to give Red's hand a bracing squeeze.

"Alright my brother, I will keep that secret. For now."