October 31

5:00 PM

1313 Slaughter Road

Squinting against a bright flash of lightning, Ressler blindly steered the car down a long, tree-lined drive.

"Who the hell would live this far out in the boondocks?" He grumbled distractedly.

"So... who are you supposed to be?" Samar interrupted the man's thoughts, gesturing to Ressler's coat. "Fox Mulder or something?"

Ressler glanced down at his attire. "That would make you Dana Scully, if so... right?" He moved his shoulders about more comfortably in the stylish trench coat he sported this night.

"I wouldn't be caught dead in the clothes they make that woman wear." Samar grimaced adorably. "Who are you kidding?"

"I wore this coat because it looked like rain." Ressler defended himself, pointing to the approaching storm. "But even if that were the case...so what?" The guy chanced a quick glance at his partner. "He was FBI, you know."

"You look nothing like the guy." Samar smiled a malicious grin. "Is all I'm saying. He is so GQ and you, on the other hand," she took the opportunity to needle the man every chance she got these days. It made her life so much better, after all. "You are so...Columbo."

"Yeah, and you're a laugh a minute." Ressler pulled a face, returning his attention to the road conditions. He also made a mental note, however, to go home and change his costume before Aram's party.

"That's because I have a wonderful sense of humor and you have none whatsoever." Samar turned forward once more, pleased to have gotten a rise out of the guy.

Ressler rolled his eyes, sighing heavily.

"Tell me again, why Elizabeth isn't taking the lead on this call?" The dark-haired beauty clutched her door handle as Ressler eased down the road, treading dangerously close to a rocky ledge.

Sighing irritably, for visibility was nonexistent, the agent cursed his luck. "Where the hell did all this wind come from? It was clear on the freeway." Ressler leaned closer to the windshield, hoping to see more of the road through the blowing leaves covering the darkened path he drove. "I've told you already...Liz isn't an agent anymore. You know that."

"We're a classified branch of your FBI, one headed by a criminal informant." Samar reminded the man needlessly if his expression was any criteria. "I think the rules, in this instance, should be brushed under the rug. It isn't as if they haven't done it to their advantage before... the higher ups."

"I don't think Keen should be allowed anywhere near the Blacksite, let alone assist us on cases." Ressler wasn't above stating his point of view. "Since her return after being on the run with Reddington, she has worked as an informant and not an agent."

"I think you are forgetting one important fact," Samar continued. "We would not be out here, in any regard, were it not for Liz."

"I don't know what you mean." Ressler evaded. "We do our job, like any other agent."

"You damn well know what I mean." Samar gave the man a cross look. "Without Elizabeth, Reddington has no interest. We would get assigned mundane crap...like any other agent."

Ressler cleared his throat to avoid a response to the statement.

"In any case, this was Liz's investigation to begin with," she pointed out. "It should be hers now."

"I know she profiled the case when with the BAU," Ressler blinked as he was once more blinded by a bright flash from the approaching storm, "but that was then. This is now. Things change."

"Not all things." Samar grumbled, casting the man beside her a disgruntled look. "Some things are stuck in a rut where they begin to fester and eventually smell up the place with their decaying asshole opinions."

Heaving a sigh, Ressler frowned at the woman beside him, but remained silent on the matter.

The man's scowl deepened as they rounded a corner, coming upon the address they searched for.

"What the hell?" Ressler scanned the terrain, his brow furrowing critically.

"Well," Samar sat upright, staring at the darkened surroundings, "these people aren't much for curb appeal."

A once stately mansion upon which the agents looked was overrun with bramble, brush, and debris. The outline of the grey stone facade framed in strobes of flickering light loomed moodily against the inky black sky like a menacing fortress.

"...Okay?" Ressler pulled up to the stone pillars standing guard on either side of the drive, peering at the creepy scene through the slits of an ornate iron gate.

"Are you sure we're at the right place?" Samar enquired. The woman dug in her jacket, producing a pen light, peering at the post-it note in her hand. "No, this is the right place, damn it to hell." She grinned over at the man beside her. "Spooky, huh?"

"Yeah..." Ressler drawled. "I'll open the gate, I guess."

Shifting more comfortably in her seat, Samar gave the man a pointed look which said... yeah, you will.

Samar listened apathetically as Ressler cursed fluently when the stiff winds yanked the door from his fingers. She smiled happily as the man walked towards the head of the vehicle and the long, dark fabric of his coat wrapped about his legs, causing the man to stumble slightly as he pushed the heavy wrought-iron gate open.

Taking a few steps back towards the car, Ressler hung his head in defeat as the fierce winds pushed the gate closed once more with an unmistakable clang.

Chuckling her mirth, Samar slid over into the driver's seat, inching the car forward as Ressler wrestled with the cumbersome blockade yet again.

Once through the obstacle, Ressler opened the driver side door, looking expectantly at Samar.

"Seriously?" Samar scowled hard up at the man. "My butt is staying where it is, Mulder."

Shifting his gaze outward over the roof, Ressler closed the door before making his way to the passenger side. He cut the woman a sour glance once back inside the car.

Inching along, Samar meandered her way up the driveway, which was barely visible through the overgrowth of weeds. "So, this is a verified tip through our hotline?"

Ressler sat, looking at the gloomy setting moodily. "Yeah..." He stared at the large picture window, with its eerily gauzy curtains and the gigantic candelabra blazing forth a subdued light.

"This is really on the up-and-up?" Samar voiced her disbelief, gesturing accordingly. "The Munsters live here, I just know it."

"From what I understood," Ressler pushed his door open, "this was supposedly the place where the murders occurred."

"What do you mean, from what you understood?" Samar followed suit, exiting her side of the car, checking with the man over the hood. "You didn't ask specifics?"

"The connection wasn't the greatest." Ressler explained, waving his hand about the rural location and the approaching storm. "Hello!"

"I meant," Samar clipped her tone, walking towards the stone staircase, "we're going into this thing blind as a bat, although...that seems somehow apropos here." Her dark eyes cut to her surroundings before returning to her companion. "Liz likely has valuable intel on whatever went down here, Ressler."

The man checked out his surroundings as well; the wind whipping the tails of his coat about haphazardly. "We're here. We will get all the intel we need firsthand."

"I know you don't put much stock in profiling," the woman sighed heavily, following the man up the steep steps of the entrance, holding firm to the rickety railing, "but you should remember how valuable Liz's input was to our cases."

"What about, since we're here," the man gestured to the front door, which they rapidly approached, "we just do our duty and ask a few pertinent questions."

Knocking on said door, the agents waited for a response. Knocking again, Ressler looked over his shoulder, an eerie feeling traversing his body. He squelched the sensation determinedly.

Samar leaned, peering through the window to her left. "I always hate doing this." She shared. "Couple times in the past, I had to duck a bullet or two."

The man whipped his head back towards his partner when he heard the distinct sound of her weapon clearing the holster on her hip. He instinctively followed suit, his own gun up and ready in seconds.

"What?" He whispered urgently.

"There's a man lying on the steps." Samar murmured quietly, her head motioning inside the dark house. "I can see him."

Aiming the gun more pronouncedly, Ressler cautiously turned the knob with his free hand. The door swung open with a decided creek. The agents hesitated, both scanning the shadowy interior for threats before moving across the darkened foyer.

Ressler approached the fallen victim first, his eyes adjusting to the area, constantly scanning and re-scanning their surroundings for danger.

"Sir!" Ressler snapped quietly, feeling for any pulse on the man's neck. "Can you hear me?"

Samar pivoted on the narrow stairs; her weapon trained. "Status..."

"He's dead." Ressler sighed, dropping his fingers away from the lifeless carotid. "Are you, uh... seeing what I'm seeing?" He motioned to the dead guy, but more so, the condition of the dead guy.

"Yep," Samar confirmed before vigilantly returning her attention to their surroundings. "I'm seeing that."

"This is weird, right?" Ressler gestured to the anomaly.

"For this place? I doubt it." Samar kept her tone low and calm. "I'm assuming our tipster said nothing about this little development?" She grumbled.

Sighing, Ressler pushed up from his crouched position, cursing succinctly when his foot caught on the tails of his overcoat, unsettling his balance. "Shit!"

Reaching out rapidly, sensing the problem, Samar attempted to right the man's precarious position a second too late.

"Oh, fuck!" Ressler grappled for a handhold as his foot slipped off the step.

Samar watched the man's ankle bend at an awkward angle before he lurched out of reach, tumbling backwards in an uncontrolled fall.

"Ressler!" Samar hurried after the man, bouncing down the steps with agile grace.

Hitting the first floor with a pronounced thump, Ressler slid along the marble floor until smacking hard against an ornate chair. The antique wood crashed loudly against the wall behind it, halting Ressler's slide in its tracks.

Samar ran to the man's side, dropping to her knees. "Are you alright?" She gasped breathlessly, already feeling for any broken bones or damage.

"Yeah," Ressler kinked his neck, grimacing, "I-I think so?" He stretched his body, groaning for the effort.

"Don't move." Samar instructed tightly.

"No," Ressler got his hand beneath him, pushing to his elbow, "no, I'm okay...really."

Slowly sitting upright with Samar's help, Ressler took stock, shifting his body about.

"Everything seems to be functioning." He breathed easier. "I think I'm good."

Grabbing the chair, Ressler shifted to his knee before placing a foot beneath him. Pushing upright, the man set the other foot beneath him... crying out a curse as the pain shot up his thigh into his brain.

He hastily settled into the chair, his face a twisted mask of agony. "Damn..." Ressler whispered the realization. "It's useless." He stated flatly. "I don't think it's broken, though."

"Did the dead guy push you?" Samar tried for lightness. "Come on, partner. It happens to the best of us. This damned house gives me the creeps. Let's get out of Dodge."

"You're from another country, for God's sake." The man accepted her shoulder as support. "How is it you know more American colloquialisms than I do?"

"Because I've dated more American guys than you, Mulder."


LIZZINGTON


Shoving his arm into his sleeve, Cooper reached, shutting down his desk light.

It had been a long-damned day. A discrete knock on his door caught the man's attention. He looked up, his scowl altering into a welcoming smile. "Oh, uh, I didn't expect you to be here this late, Elizabeth."

Still unaccustomed to the man addressing her as anything other than Agent Keen, Liz grimaced slightly. Shaking the thoughts away, she refocused on the matter at hand.

"I didn't either, sir." Liz answered truthfully. "I was actually wondering, Agents Navabi and Ressler haven't reported into you yet, have they?"

The man stole a glance at his watch. "It was a long drive, remember."

"Yes, but..." Liz's brow furrowed critically.

"Something wrong?" Cooper asked.

"No, I just wanted to be on hand, should they have questions or..." Liz shrugged any real concern away, but something was nagging at her psyche.

"They have your number," Cooper reminded, offering the woman a small smile. "Go home, I'm sure they have all well in hand." He chuckled lightly. "They are two of our best, right?"

"Do you have plans, sir?" Liz attempted a smile. "It's a special night, after all."

"Charlene and I have been invited to a costume party." the man arched a wry brow. "God help me." He quipped.

"That sounds like fun, sir." Liz's smile remained fixed.

"It sounds torturous," Cooper laughed, pocketing his phone. "It will be nice, however, to get out of the house and enjoy a drink, and hopefully... a dance with the wife."

"What are you going as, sir?" Liz asked politely.

"Martian Manhunter." Cooper smiled as he grabbed his briefcase.

Liz looked at the man quizzically.

"DC Universe," Cooper explained, receiving a blank look. "Batman, Superman?"

"Ah..." Liz nodded, though she really didn't know the character at all. "Good choice, sir."

Gesturing Elizabeth to proceed him, the man groaned disparagingly when the phone on his desk began to ring. He stopped in his tracks, glaring at the object morosely, but trudged back obediently.

"Figures..." he grumbled, grabbing the hard plastic in hand. "Yes, Director Cooper here." The man cut to the chase in hopes of saving time, maybe clearing up any obstacles to his evening plans without too much hassle.

"Agent Navabi," Cooper caught Liz's attention.

Elizabeth hesitated in her intended exit; her attention suddenly riveted.

Cooper listened politely. "Do you need an ambulance?"

Gasping quietly, Liz stepped closer, her attention rived on the phone. Curving her hands into fists, she attempted to control her urge to rush to her partners' assistance, if indeed, assistance was needed, and it sounded as if it were.

Pushing the button for the speakerphone, Cooper placed the receiver back in the cradle.

"You have him in the car." Cooper nodded, jotting down the needed information.

"He's bitchy, but we're okay and on our way to Sibley." Samar replied to the questions fired at her.

"Not GW?" The head man was confused.

"Sibley is closer, sir."

"Oh, right." He nodded. "I'm assuming you got to the address?"

"The tip was spot on, sir." Ressler grimaced, for Samar was driving like a bat out of hell trying to get him to the hospital. "We have a DB on the premises and need someone to come sit on it until we can get a forensic team, or at least the coroner, to sign off on it."

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Cooper directed his attention to the room below him, one of which was presently vacant of anyone except, Agent Carl McGavin who, for the lack of better description, was as green as a lime where his agent status was concerned.

In fact, he was so new to the game, Cooper wondered how the man was placed on such a task force to begin with. In the beginning, he believed the man to be a spy, but he hoped that was not the case as the man stuck out like a sore thumb. Quite frankly, the Director considered the young man as dumb as the proverbial rock.

Cooper watched the man trek his way across the war room and trip over an extension cord. McGavin threw out his arms to catch himself, only he unsettled a file cabinet and tossed his coffee cup in the process.

Images of the man falling over the corpse and sullying the crime scene, and the court documents being aired on live tv stating an agent of the FBI was to blame for the mistrial of a serial killer... all made the ache in Cooper's skull grow exponentially.

"That's going to be a problem." Cooper grimaced, rubbing his already throbbing temples.

"Well, we have to get Ressler to the ER," Samar advised. "Sir, because no way in hell I'm sitting up all night with him bitching and moaning about the dead guy pushing him down the stairs."

"Very funny, Navabi." Ressler replied sardonically. "So, what do you advise, sir? We can get back out there in about an hour and a half if..."

Scratching irritably at his neck, Cooper shifted his attention to the phone, just catching sight of Elizabeth waiting off at his side. His mind clicked. "No...no, you can't be on active duty with such an injury, agent, and you are aware of that rule, but..." he smiled amicably Elizabeth's way. "Elizabeth, I know you aren't exactly sanctioned..."

"You want me to babysit a dead body, sir?" Liz straightened, unsure whether to be flattered or insulted.

Cooper spread apologetic hands. "You know the proper protocol."

Ressler cleared his throat, feeling it was entirely his fault this obvious breech of protocol was going down. "...Sir, I don't think–"

"Yeah, Liz." Samar interjected hastily, her tone faux bright and cheerful. She glared over at the man in the seat beside her, covering the phone with her hand. "Don't they shoot lame horses out west?" She smiled sweetly. "If not...they should. Shut up!" She warned.

Ressler's brows lifted high on his forehead, his mouth falling agape. But he shut up.

"Ressler said the body was still warm, so maybe you could get the ball rolling while the scene is still fresh before the forensic team arrives." The lovely woman was all bright and cheery again. "That would be so great, wouldn't it?"

"I-I guess I could?" Liz glanced once more towards Cooper, who had obviously heard what he wanted, for the man finished gathering his things.

"Then it's all settled." Cooper's smile was bright and cheery. "Text her the address, and keep me apprised on Ressler's condition, Agent Navabi."

"Will do, sir. And thanks for the assist, Liz." Samar severed the line as quickly as humanly possible.

"Oh." A thought occurred to Ressler out of the silence in the car. "Maybe we should have warned her about...you know."

Samar hesitated. "Oh...yeah." She bit her lip. "Well, it's not like she won't notice right off, right? And the reception is iffy out here. I could hardly get anything Cooper was saying, you?"

"All I heard was that it was okay to go to the hospital." Ressler grimaced. "Sorry I was such a klutz, Navabi." He cut sincere eyes his partner's way.

"It's okay." She smiled softly over. "It's not like I'm not used to it." She chuckled at his sour expression, then concentrated on her driving.


LIZZINGTON


Hooking Liz's elbow, Cooper directed the woman out the office door before he closed and locked it behind him.

"I'll call the forensics team on my way home," Cooper said, "and relate the ETA as soon as I know it. Thanks for stepping up on this one, Elizabeth. You are a team player even when you aren't officially on the team."

"Uh, yes, sir." Liz hastily grabbed her jacket and bag as Cooper continued to pull her along beside him. "Shouldn't I take..." she gestured to Agent McGavin, the lone man on the floor, lowering her voice sotto voce.

"I don't want to taint the scene more than it is." Cooper shook his head, ushering the woman into the elevator. "You've done this a hundred times, nothing to it."

Watching the door slide shut, obstructing the view of Director Cooper and Elizabeth Keen, McGavin sighed, offering a careless wave of his hand... knocking his coffee over in the process.

The young man stared bleakly at the spreading liquid.


LIZZINGTON


Considering the holiday traffic and increasing darkened skies from the approaching storm, Liz was making better time than expected. She expected the drive to be a hellish one, but according to her GPS, she was a little less than fifteen minutes away from her destination.

Gripping the steering wheel, Liz fought against the rising wind, pushing her Mercedes towards the breakdown lane.

"Wow..." she righted the car, only to startle visibly, as a piercing bell jarred the silence.

Dividing her attention between the road and the wheel in hand, Liz located the inset phone button under her thumb, pressing it gingerly. She pressed again...and still again, but...

She cursed silently as a sharp beep indicated she missed the call.

Squinting against the bright headlights of oncoming traffic, Liz chanced a glance down at her hands just as the sound of the bell jangled through the interior of the car once again.

Tapping the button with her thumb, she spoke to the air around her. "Yes? Hello?"

"Lizzy..." Red's warm voice filtered through the car.

"Was that you that just called?" Liz asked. "I'm in my car."

"Yes," Red chuckled. "Have I called at an inopportune time?"

"No..." she replied absently, glancing in her side mirror, "I'm just not used to the placement of the buttons just yet. I tried to get you on the first ring, really."

"They should have the same placement as your old car." Red shared a warm smile with Dembe as they listened to the woman's difficulties.

"They're offset to mine." Liz replied sullenly. "By at least a sixteenth of an inch." She continued with factual evidence to prove her point.

"I was unaware such a small measurement would account for such discord." Red grinned.

"To a woman, an inch can mean a lot, you know." Liz said, then flushed. "I mean..."

"...I see." Red bit his inner cheek to control his amusement. Chortling quietly, he nodded knowingly. "We are still talking about the steering wheel, correct?"

"I think the Germans have it out for us...must be because they lost the war." She hurried along.

Dembe glanced down at the steering wheel in his own hands, canting his head curiously.

Red's smile widened when Dembe shrugged his confusion. "The buttons seem to be where they have always been, Elizabeth."

"They are not." Lizzy snipped. "Your car isn't my car, Dembe. All cars are different, everybody knows that."

"Of course, they are, sweetheart." Red soothingly placated the woman.

"Why you bought this new car, when I just got used to my old one." Liz was questioning the purchase even as she drove. "I had picked out a name for her and everything."

"You needed an upgrade, sweetheart." Red assured, his tone a calming one.

"The vehicle is equipped with bullet resistant glass." Dembe piped up helpfully...or did he?

"W-Why would I need bullet resistant..."

"No reason, honey." Red sent the man a glare. "I just wanted to get you a gift. I hope you like it."

Did Red just call her... honey? Oh, not that she minded if he did. She had just never heard him say that before. She kind of liked it.

"Well, it's a really cool gift as gifts go." She had to admit. "It's not every day a girl gets a car out of the blue."

In fact, Red only purchased the car as the features he insisted upon allowed him to locate Elizabeth easily in an emergency.

It also aggravated him beyond belief, Tom may have been in the other vehicle at some point or other. Besides, he hated the silvery white color.

"Get off my ass, you asshole!" Liz grated her derision for the tailgater behind her, whose lights were shining directly into her rear-view mirror. She slowly waved her hand, indicating the man should go around, a slow grin pulling at her mouth. "I'll wipe that little Prius off the face of the planet with my big ass German tank if you don't!"

Stifling his laughter, Red caught sight of Dembe's twinkling eyes in the mirror. "Sweetheart, did you have a bad day?"

"Yeah..." she grumbled, giving the man now driving alongside her an evil glare, "and it doesn't seem to be getting any better."

"I was wondering if you were hungry... perhaps free for dinner?" Red enquired pleasantly, ignoring the woman's low, and continued bitching at her fellow commuters. As was her way.

"I haven't eaten anything but an English muffin with apple fig jam." The woman disgusted. "Stupid fall flavors! It was like a twisted version of Fruit Cake!" She frowned hard, then canted her head slightly. "That sounds good right now." She mused openly, her stomach rumbling at the thought of food.

"The situation seems very dire." Dembe made remark, earning a quiet chortle from Raymond.

"I happened upon the quaintest little diner," Red related, interrupting the woman in hopes of selling his proposal, "famous for its traditional southern cooking."

While on the run, they spoke of a multitude of subjects, but one Red noticed most and paid particular attention to was... Lizzy's appetite.

As the situation had been rather tense, whenever the opportunity presented itself, Red would entice Lizzy to share favorite meals. He hoped in doing so, it would whet her appetite, as her desire to eat had waned considerably... as had her weight. It concerned him, even now, how skinny Lizzy appeared.

During their chats, Lizzy's weakness appeared to be a home-cooked meal. While he understood she was merely homesick, it wouldn't hurt to feed that craving.

He searched high and low for what would assuage those feelings before happening upon Aunt Martha's Kitchen.

Not only was the woman down-to-earth, but Martha's cooking was to die for. Red swore he gained ten pounds eating a single plate, let alone the dessert she insisted he try.

He could still taste the sweet mellow richness of her cinnamon peach cobbler now. The woman sure had a knack for mixing things, for the sweet treat, spiked with bourbon, certainly had a kick.

Liz's brow puckered critically, wishing for nothing more than to taste anything at this point other than the orange tartness of the tic-tac she rolled about her tongue.

"I know you recently stated a craving for fried chicken," Red sweetened the pot.

"And peach cobbler..." Liz added wistfully. The woman closed her eyes, then snapped them open as a blare of a car horn jolted her back to the present.

"I assure you, it's as sublime as you imagine." Red's eyes crinkled, just picturing Lizzy salivating at the very idea. "She even has black-eyed peas and the sweetest cornbread this side of the Mason-Dixon line."

"...Oh, I love black-eyed peas and cornbread." Liz sighed airily, then frowned. "Unfortunately, I was roped into an assignment, so...I guess I can't take you up on the dinner thing."

"Oh?" Red's interest piqued. "What would that be, exactly? Can you say?"

"Oh, Red..." she replied glumly, "they're sending me to babysit a dead body."

"Excuse me?" Red questioned his hearing.

The woman woefully related all she knew and how it all came about. "I was a sucker, right?" She sensed as much. "I should have fawned it off on that new guy...the one who is always spilling things."

Red couldn't help wondering if this assignment was a ploy of some sort. He never had trusted the FBI, even more so now after his and Lizzy's recent adventures.

"You're alone?" Red felt a frown overtake his features. "The new klutz isn't with you?"

Patting Dembe's shoulder, Red took the tablet he had indicated. He pulled up a view of Elizabeth's location.

"Yes," she sighed, "alone and hungry, and probably lost out in the middle of nowhere. I haven't seen a road sign in fifty miles, I swear." Okay, she just passed a few, but they were on the opposite side of the road, so they didn't count, right?

Liz straightened in her seat as a subtle beep interrupted. "That'll be Cooper!" She gasped. "Oh, no...oh no... uhm, Dembe, how... how do I switch calls?" She pushed one button after another in rapid succession. "Hello...Hello? Yes, hello...I'm here, sir. Hello?"

Red grimaced slightly, squinting his dismay, hearing the mounting anxiety in the woman's tone.

"Elizabeth, the call button should.." Dembe hurriedly attempted to get information conveyed but... "it's the button nearest your thumb on the..."

Red shook his head as Lizzy's frantic voice piped through loud and clear from the speakers.

"Sir!" Liz called out. "Sir, are you there?" The woman pushed and stared hard out into the gusty night. "Oh shit! Hello! Hello?"

Red sighed inwardly Lizzy still addressed Cooper as a superior. Even though she no longer officially worked for the man. Which was nice, in one way, he supposed.

"Agent..." Cooper sighed heavily, "I mean, Elizabeth...I'm hearing you. Please stop pushing the buttons."

Swallowing at the lump in her throat, Liz cleared it quickly. "I'm here, sir."

Red fell silent, listening intently to the call.

"I spoke with the forensic team," Cooper related, "bad news, horrible actually... they are two hours out on arrival to your destination."

"Two hours..." Liz gasped her dismay, her eyes swept the dark, lonely stretch of road she traveled.

Cooper grimaced himself. "There is a slight backlog tonight, I suppose, due to the holiday and... whatnot." He trailed off.

"I understand, sir." Liz slumped dejectedly, looking longingly at her discarded pack of tic-tacs. "I suppose I should get on out there then? To the address and...and the dead body?" Hope tinged her voice.

Maybe the guy had changed his mind? Why he would, though, was anyone's guess. She was grasping at straws and the possibility of peach cobbler.

"I know this sucks, but I can't tell you how appreciative I am for your help in this matter." Cooper sounded sincere enough, even to Red's jaded ears. "As soon as anyone is available, I will send them your way, my word, Agent...Elizabeth." He corrected yet again.

"Glad to do my part, sir." Liz gamely replied, forcing a smile. "Oh, sir... have you had an update about Ressler?" She asked, hoping maybe Samar and Ressler could come back and relieve her?

"Ressler called, said they were in the ER waiting." Cooper said. "Drive carefully." He disengaged the call.

"Did I hang up on you, sir?" Liz was aghast for a second before she realized. "...Is anyone out there? Red? Did I hang up on you guys, too?" She started pushing buttons...

"We're here, sweetheart." Red hastily spoke, before the woman could disconnect the call.

"Did you hear any of that?" She pouted her lot in life.

"We heard, yes." Red said. "I assure you, the information is safe with me."

"Could I maybe get a rain check on dinner?" Liz returned to the subject foremost on her mind.

"Of course, sweetheart." Red assured. "Perhaps later this evening, when you're free."

"Yeah," Liz brightened, "yeah, it won't be too late, will it."

"I will see to it Aunt Martha stays open just for you."

Red watched the woman's vehicle blip along the screen before coming to a stop in the middle of nowhere.

The silence was deafening. "Elizabeth?"

"Wow." The disconnected voice held a certain amount of misgivings and awe. "You should see this place. It's right out of a Hitchcock movie." Liz stared wide-eyed at her surroundings. "No damned way I'm even thinking about taking a shower in that house."

She shivered involuntarily, then dismissed the sensation. "Listen to me." She felt foolish. "Just ignore anything I say from here on out. It's just, I'm weak from hunger, I'm sure."

"What are you seeing?" Red was curious and a little apprehensive, to be honest.

Liz meticulously scanned the late turn-of-the-century home. "It's creepy as hell." She decided. "All that's needed is a graveyard next door."

Red exchanged oblique looks with Dembe.

"Oh, wait a minute," Liz shrugged aimlessly. Though the house was in disarray, and the lawn overgrown and shutters questionably hanging askew, "with a little TLC and maybe some fresh paint? This thing has potential. The architecture is magnificent!"

"I'm just being silly and, after all, I'm a grown woman." She granted. "The sooner I get in there, the sooner I can get to that peach cobbler, right?"

"Elizabeth, I dislike you being alone with assistance so far away." Red voiced his concern, especially after such a description of her surroundings. "Most especially, considering the reason you're out there to begin with."

Dembe pulled to the right, slipping the car into park. Removing his phone, he hurriedly began typing out a message before pulling back out into traffic.

"Are you tracking me again?" Liz cocked a wry brow.

"You know I am." Red didn't deny it. "You are alone, with a dead man... in the middle of nowhere. Of course, I'm tracking you."

"I'm not an amateur, Red." Liz's tone softened. It used to annoy the hell out of her, the way Red hovered. "I know you are just looking out for me. It's nice to have such a good friend and ally. Really."

"It just makes good sense to have back-up." He explained. "Even I have Dembe to watch my back."

"Good point..." Liz pulled up to the gate, sighing her lot in life. "We all could use a Dembe Zuma in our lives, I suppose." She stared ahead, closing her eyes to the realization. "The gate is closed."

She looked out at the threatening sky. "Well, if I move my butt, I can get into the house and out of this weather and, after all...it's better than having McGavin hanging around. Knowing him, he would find some way to spill something like super glue all over the dead guy. Forensics would shoot us both."

Red's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute, is that the little asshole who ruined my new fedora last week?"

Both Liz and Dembe snickered quietly, recalling how devastated Red had been when McGavin had busted open an ink cartridge all over Red's pristine white fedora.

To make matters worse, and what McGavin had not taken into account when he grasped the hat to wipe the spillage away was... his hands were covered in the thick fluid. By the time all was said and done, everything in a five-foot radius was covered in the jet-black ink.

Red's eye was twitching noticeably by the time Lizzy managed to get him out of the Blacksite. She cooled his temper by sharing a delicious dinner at his home. It turned out to be a nice evening after all, despite McGavin's faux pas.

"Wasn't I about to kill that little fucker?" Red couldn't remember why he had not done so. It was a white fedora, after all...those things don't grow on trees.

"Just a second." Liz pushed her way out of the car. Grabbing a nearby stone, she cradled it to her chest as she pushed at the gate with her back. Letting the stone drop at her feet, she rolled it into place, holding the gate open.

"There!" She briskly brushed her hands together, cleaning them of the accumulated dirt. "There now."

Red restlessly drummed his fingers on the armrest as he waited for Elizabeth to return. The man shifted his attention upward, grimacing when he caught Dembe glaring at him through the mirror.

"Sorry, Dembe." Red stopped the incessant tapping only to resume it a breath later, only this time, on his knee.

"Okay, I'm back." Liz's panted breathing broke the silence.

"If you plan on being gone for any extended period of time," Red suggested, strongly, "perhaps you might let someone in on the particulars of your journey?" He scowled.

"Yeah, had to prop open the gate." Liz replied. "It's windy out there!"

Red glanced at the stormy skies out to their southwest. The storm had been building the better part of the day in the Tennessee valley and projected to hit DC sometime later in the evening. Most likely, when Elizabeth was driving home from the middle of nowhere.

Placing the car in drive, Liz pulled through the now opened passage. Eerie shadows swayed this way and that with the movement of the numerous bushes and trees lining the path she edged down. She couldn't make out any discernable driveway.

She moved on instinct, turning the way she hoped would take her to the huge mansion hidden now in the trees.

The car jolted over something in its path, tossing her about in the driver's seat. Had it not been for her belt, she would have landed in the passenger seat.

"Damn!" Liz cursed, gripping the wheel in hand for it had jerked from her grasp. The woman straightened in her seat, pushing back her hair from her face. "Let's try this again." Pushing the gas, she frowned when the car remained stationary, the engine revving loudly. "What the hell is happening now!" She cursed her luck, peering out to try to see the trouble, but there was only darkness around her.

She opened the car door, leaning out, exasperating a heartfelt curse.

Red sensed the issue, his mouth tightening.

"Son of a bitch..." Liz hissed under her breath. Pushing her way out of the car once more, her curses of irritation grew in volume. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" she kicked the wheel.

"Elizabeth..." Red called out over the sound of the wind filtering through Lizzy's phone.

"I'm stuck!" She snapped her ire, falling back into the driver's seat. "I got high-centered on a rock! What the hell is a rock doing out here in the middle of the damned driveway?"

Closing his eyes, Red shook his head. "I'm thinking maybe that's not the actual driveway, sweetheart." He held his smile.

Reaching into the car's interior, Liz grabbed her phone, satchel, and flashlight. Tucking her collar up around her neck, she gave the car a puzzled look as the lights began to flash a slow, somehow romantic pulse.

The radio flicked to life, filling the car's interior with the sounds of violin. "Heavenly shades of night are falling, it's twilight time..."

"Uh, is that... Twilight Time?" Red enquired as the sweet melody piped through his own speakers.

"An oldie, but a goodie." Dembe said, tapping his finger along with the tune. "The Platters were underrated."

"Oh, what does it matter!" Liz bemoaned, bumping the door closed with her hip. "I hurt the car, Red!"

"It's all right." Red assuaged any guilt the woman must feel.

"Red, can you maybe call a tow service?" Liz cupped her hand over the speaker, blocking the high winds whistling about and whipping her clothes and hair haphazardly.

"Lizzy, what are you doing?" Red strained to hear the woman.

"I'm walking to the house!" Liz tried blocking the phone best she could. "Oh!" She stumbled over what looked to be a stone garden ledge, just catching herself on a nearby tree. She glared back at the rock, just catching a glimpse of what could be a date etched into the surface before turning off in a huff.

"What happened?" Red sat upright, intent on the dashboard.

"Tripped over a stupid rock!" Liz grumbled, then sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Red." She apologized. "I hope I didn't hurt the car."

"Don't worry about the damn car," Red tsked. "It's taken care of, you know that."

"...Yeah," Liz knew, but it didn't make her any less sorry. "You're such an understanding guy."

"I try to be...on occasion." He grinned at nothing in particular.

So intent on Lizzy, Red barely took note they had stopped, let alone that Dembe had exited the vehicle.

"Red, you are gonna call the tow service, right? That would help me a lot." The woman confirmed, lining her ducks in a row. "For which I will be forever grateful."

Red heard every other word, but enough to understand her meaning. "Of course, I will, sweetheart."

"I can just catch a ride with the tow service or the team," Liz shrugged. "Maybe afterwards," she flashed the light in her hand at the ground, blinking hard at the dust flying into her eyes, "...we can meet up for dinner?"

Red's eyes softened, hearing the hopeful tone in the woman's voice. "That would be wonderful."

"Okay, then... it's a date!" Liz smiled, then grimaced, realizing how that must have sounded.

Though she and Red had grown closer during their time on the run, and even now back in DC, that nice feeling lingered, at least, on her part. Though, that didn't mean the man might entertain the thought of dating... dammit. Dating? What was this, high school?

She drew in a deep, cleansing breath. How to retract that stupid remark graciously...could nothing go right today?

The unintentional silence that followed brought a slow smile to Red's face. "It is...a date," he assured, "my treat, I insist."

Liz's cheeks flushed when Red didn't bother to correct her slip of the tongue. The fact made her feel all fuzzy and warm all over.

So focused on the man's evened breathing, Liz gasped when a loud clang interrupted the silence.

"What the hell was that?!" She purposely controlled her breathing, scanning her surroundings for any sign which might have caused the ruckus.

"What was that?" Red asked, for he, too, heard something unusual.

Whipping around, Liz heaved a sigh of aggravation. "Oh...the damn gate slammed closed, that's all."

Stomping her way through the thicket winding about her feet, Liz lost all track of her bearings until her toe caught on the bottom step of the house.

"Shit!" She hastily threw her arms out, catching herself before she fell. Her bag slung forward, knocking the phone from her hand. The dark plastic skittered across the paved surface of the porch.

"What the hell just happened?" Red questioned. Having heard the ruckus, he jerked back when the phone crashed into some unknown object.

"Red, I dropped the phone!" Liz yelled out as she struggled to her feet. "I-I can't see it!"

Red's frown deepened when the driver's side door opened and Dembe fell into the plush seating, placing a large parcel beside him in the passenger seat.

"I don't know if you can hear me..." Liz continued. "...Can you? Hear me?"

"Are we back to pushing buttons again?" Dembe questioned.

"She dropped her phone." Red explained quietly.

"But I'll, uh... find it later, I guess, when the teams get here?" Liz blindly continued her search, however. "I feel kinda naked without it...lost. Discombobulated." She teared up. "...Red, is this what withdrawal feels like?"

Red bit back a smile, for the woman had only been without her phone for a minute.

"Until then, uh..." she hung her head, "I guess I'll go inside and get started so... I'll hopefully call you later!" She stated hopefully, only to feel her hopes crash a second later. "Oh, just… wait... I can do this. I've done it before. Hell, they didn't even have phones when I was little. Well, they might have, but I didn't have one, so... I didn't miss it."

"She babbles when she's agitated." Red explained the obvious. "It's quite adorable."

Red's eye ticked when the sound of the wind rushed over the speaker. The resulting crackle tested the security of the already precarious connection.

Under normal circumstances, he would hang up and call her back, allowing Lizzy to find the phone.

This was, however, not under normal circumstances. What if he disconnected the call, then couldn't reestablish a connection with her?

Elizabeth was alone in the boondocks with a dead man, one who had died within the last couple hours, if the information given to Lizzy was indeed correct.

"Keep the line open," Red directed as Dembe pulled back out into traffic.

While he couldn't speak with her directly, at least he could hear what was going on, for the most part.

"Go there, Dembe," Red worried the armrest beside him with restless fingers. "I want to be with her." He noted the freeway had suddenly narrowed into a two-lane rural route that winded around the countryside. The darkness prevented any great visibility.

"I assumed as much." Dembe nodded knowingly. "We will arrive in fifteen minutes."

Both men fell silent, listening to the rush of the wind blow harshly into Lizzy's phone.


LIZZINGTON


Pushing the door open, Liz inched her way inside the unusually warm foyer. "...Hello?" she whispered politely, then more assertively. "Hello?"

Stepping inside, she dropped her bag on a nearby chair. Her frown increased when she noted the room to her right. Several candles lined the entire arch of the room, and not just any candles...these bastards were huge! Placed in a symmetrical pattern, in front of massive windows, in an otherwise empty room. Candelabra upon candelabra, beautifully decorative, decidedly ostentatious.

Odd? She had not noted any light emanating from the house upon her arrival seconds ago.

The flickering light reflected back off the windows, casting a warm glow in the otherwise vacant space. She stared transfixed at the four feet high, incrementally spaced objects.

"Okay, so this is weird." Liz mentioned in passing. "What are we going for, a human sacrifice or something...wait?" Her words trailed away. The silence settled about her. She jumped when the door behind her slammed shut, causing the firelight to bend with the sudden rush of wind.

Blowing out a calming breath, Liz chuckled, amused by the unusual jolt of adrenaline she experienced. "Well, that was fun."

Shaking off her nerves, Liz turned to her bag just as a flash of lightning illuminated the surrounding space.

"Holy!" She jerked back as the face of a man stared blankly at her through the darkness. "Jesus!"

Stumbling back, Liz caught herself on a grandfather clock, upsetting the large chimes within. She hurriedly grappled with the weapon secured at her back as the unexpected clanging surrounded her on all sides. Her hands shook slightly as she gripped the stock.

"Shit!" She spun away, gripping the cold steel in her hand, seeking her target, for the noise had momentarily distracted her.

Hastily shifting her attention back towards the man, Liz released the grip she had on her gun to lay a calming hand against her breast when she took note...

The guy was in the same position, the same expression on the frightened, twisted features.

She had nothing to fear from this guy. It was suddenly clear.

"Oh, it's you." Liz breathed out an expelled breath. "Hello, sir." She grimaced. "I-I mean...oh, never mind."

Upon closer examination, the man lay in a downward pose, his head pointing towards the foot of the stairs. His vacant eyes appeared to look straight through her and stare lifelessly at nothing in particular. His arms and legs lay sprawled across the staircase. One arm in particular dangled freely through the banister. The limb appeared bent at an awkward angle.

"That looks painful," she muttered a grimace. "I guess, though, you don't feel it, huh?"

Shaking her head, Liz reached for her bag. "Besides it being a symptom of psychosis, is talking to dead people," she wondered, "as bad as seeing them?"

She glanced up at the dead guy. "Well, you know what I mean, right?"

Waving her hand irritably, she finally unearthed what she needed. "I'm not talking about you," she clarified. "I meant, seeing apparitions or whatever." She explained. "Not that I believe in ghosts, cause I don't."

Pulling her latex gloves free, she absently slipped them over her fingers, only to feel them catch on her sweaty palms.

"Though once, when we went out camping," she remembered, "we heard the sound of children laughing." If she closed her eyes, she could hear the echo even now.

"I suppose it could have been the children's summer camp on the other side of the thicket," she granted. "I've thought about it for a while now. That is surely what it must have been...right?"

"It was just so damn eerie..." she shivered at the memory, "and it was three in the morning..." she defended her reasoning, then waved it away just as quickly, "but it's not like I think it was ghosts or anything. Really, I don't."

Scoffing, Liz rifled through her bag, removing her writing tablet and camera.

Taking a couple quick shots of the man and his predicament, Liz set the camera aside.

"Again, why the hell am I still talking to you?" She tsked, then chuckled quietly. "I'm sorry," she apologized to the guy, "...I'm a little hungry here. I get cranky, I guess. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

Standing back, Liz took a mental picture in her head in order to engrave the image on her brain. It was an indelible photograph which could not be erased.

"Red will fix that though," she continued the conversation, "just like he does everything else for me..." Smiling, she tucked her hair behind her ear. "He never fails to help me when I need it most."

Placing the pen to the paper, she fell silent, her attention caught by what sounded like...of all things, an empty can being kicked along the floor.

Placing her pad and pen down, Liz reached once more for her weapon, this time removing it from the holster. Squinting down the darkened corridor, she inched forward, her weapon aimed.

Brushing at the cobwebs draped along the long hall, Liz shook her hand to remove the sticky trap from her fingers when she once again heard the sound, only this time from the opposite end of the hall.

Spinning on her heel, Liz held her breath. Placing her back against the wall, she swiveled her head, straining to hear anything over the howling wind outside.

Hearing very little aside from her own controlled breathing, she tentatively took a step, then immediately halted the movement.

Her eyes widened when the soft, yet unmistakable sound... of children's laughter echoed down the long corridor.


LIZZINGTON


"That is one impressive mansion." Red's brows lifted slightly, as his eyes took in the state of disrepair and sad melancholy of the once stately home.

"The gardener is rather behind in his duties, don't you think?" Red eyed the acreage critically. No matter its jaded history, it was a terrible shame to see something so stunning in such a pitiable condition.

"The Munsters live here, I just know it." Dembe, too, was forming an opinion of the house, apparently.

"It's more of a fusion between the Munsters and Addams Family." Red mused aloud.

"Do not even think about it, Raymond." Dembe warned, sensing the direction the other man's thoughts were taking.

"What?" Red chuckled at his friend's stringent tone.

"You know exactly to what I refer." Dembe kept his eyes focused on the road before him.

"With a little paint." Red shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe an arbor here or there..."

"... A couple of throw pillows, perchance?" Dembe muttered sotto voce as visions of a castle and man-made monster loomed in his imaginings.

Ignoring the obvious movie reference, Red nodded thoughtfully. "This place could be something with a little TLC." He saw possibility where others didn't. "Just like Lizzy said."

"If you say so." Dembe narrowed suspicious eyes at the house before them. "I say, this house has an evil past."

"I beg your pardon." Red shifted forward, resting his forearm on the back of the seat, his attention fixed and immediate.

"Depraved and atrocious activity took place here," Dembe replied slowly. "Many suffered..."

"I doubt very much there's a torture chamber in residence, Dembe." Red muttered aside.

"Death lives here..." Dembe stated his belief.

"Death lives here?" Red repeated, his voice lifting in pitch. "Is that an oxymoron or a paradox?"

"Mark my words, nefarious events have taken place here." Dembe assured all too quietly.

"Yes, a murder, I hear tell." Red agreed with the assessment. "Two of them, actually." He looked at the guy as if he had grown another head. "That's why we're here, Igor...remember?"

"As I said." Dembe lifted his hands as if to say, I told you so.

"Need I remind you," Red reminded, "we killed a group of men in the house we have in Sydney... and you called dibs on the room with the view of the ocean." He couldn't help point out. "I didn't hear you complaining then."

Sighing, Dembe's attention remained fixed on the path ahead.

"Okay, let's just say for argument's sake," Red reasoned, "could it be, the man who perpetrated the murders wished to silence a witness to said occurrence?"

"Believe what you will." Dembe turned a cheek.

"Have you always been this whimsical in nature, Dembe?" Red wondered. "Or does house on haunted hill," he motioned, "just simply bring out the best in you." It was teased. "Come on now...tell me what you really think about our chances of survival if we actually go inside that mausoleum."

"I have no intention of entering that place." Dembe's mellow tone lent an almost lyrical quality to the declaration.

"Lizzy is already in there." Red pointed out. "You chickenshit. Of course, we're going in."

"We...kemosabe?" Dembe lifted a noble brow, crooking his head just enough to alert Red to his state of mind.

"Well, I'm going in because...I ain't afraid of no ghosts." Red chuckled. "And don't think I don't know what that word means."

"I reference, of course...the Apache translation." Dembe wanted to make certain the man actually did understand the meaning.

"Yeah, I got that." Red got it. "Now get the hell out of the car and man up!"

Creeping the auto closer towards the gate, Dembe sighed his aggravation when the gate did not open.

"As sure as you are... evil walks among us," Red quipped, "I'm just as sure that gate won't open, for the spirits haven't paid the electric bill." He chuckled at the man's sour grunt of discord. "I'll get it. You drive through." He said before exiting the car.

Sticking his head back in the car, Red glanced at his friend. "Or perhaps, we should wait and see if a Genie will happen along to magically open it for us?"

"I will leave you here, alone, Raymond." Dembe replied, his tone no nonsense.

Laughing brightly, Red closed the door, heading for the cumbersome gate.

More than pleased to stay out of the elements, Dembe watched Raymond look about the ground as he neared the ornate fixture. Pulling a wooden stake from a thicket of grass, the man drove it into the soft soil before ramming a couple boulders hard up against the blockade.

Returning to the front passenger seat, Red lifted the basket out of his way, placing it in his lap once situated. He pointed to what he could see of the driveway. "There seems to be the outer limits of the known path...which lies between the pit of man's fear and the summit of his knowledge." He gave his friend a most superior look. "So, you're on the right track."

"You are most amusing, Raymond." Dembe replied stonily.

Making out the barely discernable path, Dembe followed the trail indicated. Easing about the curve, the man slowed when Raymond silently asked he do so with a slight wave of his hand.

"There's Lizzy's car." Red searched the house up ahead with a probing stare. He looked the car over critically, his brow furrowing. "Didn't she say she high-centered it?" He wondered aloud.

All four tires sat straight on flat land, as though Lizzy had parked it there intentionally.

"Perhaps she simply became stuck on a patch of damp grass." Dembe explained. "It is dark," his eyes scanned the horizon, "foggy... foreboding."

"Not this again." Red sighed his woe.

"It's not outside the realm of possibility, she was simply unsettled. The mind can play tricks on a person." Dembe expounded his thoughts. "Perhaps she perceived it to be a trap from which she couldn't escape."

"Yes, that's it." Red agreed, hoping to move onto other matters. "You've hit the nail on the head with that one, buddy."

Dembe slowed, checking the car for occupants. "She must be within the interior."

"Where else could she possibly be?" Red asked the rhetorical question. "Of course, she's inside."

Turning the car towards the house, the headlights flit along the facade in passing.

"Red..." Lizzy's voice floated through the interior of the car. A soft whisper, caressing his skin.

"Lizzy, I can hear you." Red replied, his smile a genuine one. "We're here, can you see the car?"

"...Red.." Liz's disembodied voice repeated, a feathery remnant of its former vitality.

The sounds of heavy and distinct foot falls passed by Elizabeth's phone. Both men stiffened, exchanging cryptic looks.

"Hit the lights." Red muttered tightly.

Dembe's eyes swept the area as the high beams clicked to life. The arch of light swept boldly across the spacious porch. The outline of a couple of deck chairs and a porch swing were clearly visible. The house was dark aside from the front door, which outlined some illumination.

The chairs and swing rocked slowly in tandem with one another. Red's brow furrowed as he and Dembe continued to stare at the peculiarity. They once again exchanged enigmatical glances. Suddenly, both chairs and swing, all appeared to gain speed rapidly, then stopped abruptly before once again falling into a sedate rhythm.

"This reminds me of that time in China when I went on the opium binge." Red said quietly... nothing more.

The silence was not uncomfortable, per se. Red took a deep breath, checking on his friend.

"I do not see anything." Dembe scanned the porch with a keen eye. Gripping the wheel, he wrung his hands on the rich leather.

"Nervous, Dembe?" Red had noticed the man's sudden agitation. They sat stoically, simply staring ahead at the odd house and its strange aura.

Grasping the doorhandle, Red pushed hard against the driving wind as he lifted from his seat. Setting the box that had been on his lap atop the car, he leaned back into the interior of the vehicle to grab his phone.

Placing it to his ear. The hair on the back of his neck stood up when he heard faint whisperings echoing back at him. The man frowned hard at the phone.

"Damn wind," he sighed, pushing the receiver harder to his ear. "Lizzy, I'm just outside. I'll be there in a minute."

Dembe reluctantly joined Red.

Red grinned at his friend, then both stepped in tandem toward the foreboding residence. The sound of glass shattering halted their steps. Some unseen object had broken the top right window. A large triangular sliver hung precariously from the lattice before falling to the ground where it splintered into a thousand diamond-shaped pieces.

Dembe hastily stepped back, his handsome face suddenly ashen as a ghostly white aura burst from the now open space to flap about in the strong winds.

Red hung his head, chuckling merrily. "You should see your face, man." At that exact moment, the sounds of wolves baying off in the distance accompanied the eerie illusion.

Dembe's wide eyes transferred to the large full moon shining in the purple streaked sky with its wispy grey clouds floating stealthily by.

"I didn't know that was possible," Red side-glanced the man beside him with a teasing glint in his eye, "to see the color bleed from your face." he playfully nudged Dembe's shoulder with his own.

Red's chortle grew in volume when Dembe startled at the unexpected touch and stiffened. The large man cut dark, dangerous eyes his way.

"Typically, ghosts make use of the bedsheets, I hear tell," Red laughed at his friend's expense, "not the drapes." he lifted his hand towards the ghostly flutterings overhead.

He tittered softly at his friend's exasperated sigh as the sounds of the wolves reached a feverish pitch. "Children of the night," Red yelled out, having adopted a Romanian accent, "... shut up!"

Red's brow lifted with surprise when the cacophony of the different pitched yowls slowly tapered off, leaving only the hollow howl of the wind.

Red's brows rose exponentially for the fact. "That...was just a coincidence." He assured.

"I would like to remind you," Dembe broke the tenseness of the moment, staunchly defending his honor, "it is All Hallow's Eve."

"Your point being, exactly?" Red waited for a reply, which was not forthcoming.

Pinching his mouth tightly, Dembe remained moot on the matter, his gaze once again settling on the house looming large before them.

Gallantly waving a hand, Red stepped aside for Dembe to precede him...but the man remained rooted to the spot.

Furrowing his brow questioningly, Red cackled after a moment's hesitation when he realized the man had no intention, whatsoever, of going first.

"I will not enter a room first. I will not enter a room last." Dembe began, his tone a matter-of-fact one.

Rolling his eyes to the heavens, Red sighed as the man quoted a character from an unexpectedly amusing Halloween episode they had recently stumbled over.

"I will not investigate any suspicious noises," Dembe continued, "or go looking for a fuse box–"

"Yes, yes," Red waved a dismissive hand, "I remember the show, Dembe." The man bit the inside of his jaw to hold his smile. "And all the other movies you've forced me to sit through."

"The blonde co-ed is the first to die," Red ticked off the universal rules on his fingers," there is no running upstairs for any reason, or entering sheds where sharp tools may reside," he muttered, grabbing his hat, "and the black man don't go first."

"I'm glad we understand one another." Dembe lifted a regal chin.

A well of amusement built in Red's throat. "After all we've faced together...drug cartels, the mafia, maniacal murderers.."

"...Evading your jilted lovers." Dembe definitely was following the man's musings.

"You, my friend, hesitate at the sight of a billowing bedsheet?" Red questioned the logic of the facts facing them.

"...Red," the familiar whisper of Lizzy's voice caressed the air about the two men. Red quickly put the phone to his ear.

"Sweetheart?" Red's brow furrowed darkly. "We're here. We're just...eh...we're coming right in." He knew her voice, like his own, but there was something disturbingly different about the cadence of this...disembodied enchantress.

"...Red ..." the woman's breathy voice seemed to linger in the air as though she exhaled when she said his name. "...I'm here."

He approached the porch with a purpose. Glancing right, then left... he saw nothing but deck furniture and overgrowth of dormant rose bushes.

Red's heart skipped a beat. Had the woman taken a misstep and fallen off the porch? Was she in that dark foliage, hurt and unable to respond to his beckoning?

Quickly walking the length of the porch, Red pushed aside a thicket of scratchy honeysuckle, searching for the woman. "Lizzy... where are you?" he demanded a reply.

"I need...you!" There was a definite desperation to the whispered urgency.

Wincing, Red yanked the phone back as the soft-spoken words shifted to an ear-splitting screech.

Squinting away from a brilliant flash of lightning, Red straightened when the piercing sounds grew in volume. He cringed, then started visibly as a loud crash reverberated through the speaker, as though something had fallen directly on the phone itself.

"What the hell was that?" Red glanced towards his friend questioningly, for he couldn't see a damn thing.

Red caught the flashlight Dembe tossed his way, once again searching the area meticulously.

"Dammit to hell...where are you, honey?" There was a desperation to his tone now.


LIZZINGTON


"What the hell..." Liz muttered to herself, her voice shaking slightly.

Inching further back into the wall, Liz trained her weapon as the sound of wind chimes merrily danced in the wind. Receding laughter of small children melded into a strange echoing cadence.

Liz wondered why she was only just now hearing wind chimes. Surely, they would have been clanging away all the time she had been here, what with the strong winds outside.

"Okay..." Liz exhaled shakily, "yeah, this is creepy." Her eyes darted this way and that in the complete blackness of the area in which she stood.

The air suddenly felt thick and oppressive as a whispering hush floated down the vast space and grew, slowly growing in volume. Overlapping chatter tickled at her neckline, sending a current down her spine.

Rubbing hard at the sensation, Liz shivered when the electric tendrils moved up into her skull and made her hair feel as if it were standing on end.

Keeping her back flush with the wall, Liz crept back towards the foyer, her eyes wide and alert.

Distorted images danced along the walls, though she couldn't figure out how. Even the shadows were black, no light emitted at all.

There were no windows, no open doors. Her penlight only illuminated a foot before her, so it sure as hell wasn't powerful enough to evoke...what she was seeing on those mysterious walls.

Taking a step forward, Liz froze in place when the door just opposite her cracked open with a sinister creek. She stared at the phenomenon breathlessly, her eyes wide and alarmed.

The woman gasped when the heavy portal swung wide, hitting the wall behind with a deafening thud. A billow of black smoke emerged from the now opened threshold, slithering slowly up the sides, rolling about the ceiling in billowy bubbles. The thick fog crept along at an unhurried pace as though it had a life of its own.

Releasing a slow, even breath, for she did not wish to reveal her position, Liz lifted the gun slightly, pointing it at the doorway.

Without warning, the door swung about, slamming hard against the frame, rattling the doorknob. She heard a decided click as if it locked itself, barring any unwanted intrusions.

"So..." she swallowed hard, "that just happened."

As quietly and quickly as she could, Liz backed away, seeking out her previous position. She halted slowly, to get her bearings, leaning for support against the strength of the wall behind her.

She listened to the sounds surrounding her. The wind chimes had died down, but the wind outside... had not. There were no children laughing. The only sound was her own heavy, erratic breathing.

The woman's eyes bugged from her head when she felt the unmistakable grasp of bony, ice-cold fingers wrap about her ankle.

"Shit!" she shrieked loudly, bolting down the long corridor without a backwards glance. "I'm outta here!"


LIZZINGTON


Taking the box from atop the car, Dembe frowned over at his friend as the man continued his search.

"I'm not seeing her," Red came to stand alongside his comrade, shining the light in his hand at various points of interest. "I'm fairly alarmed here, Dembe. What the hell is going on?"

"Perhaps she located her phone," Dembe hoisted the box to his hip, "and is inside?"

"Red..." Liz's soft voice emanated from somewhere just behind him.

Glancing hastily around, the smile on Red's face slowly fell away as no sign of the woman was forthcoming.

"Okay, what the hell?" Red tossed his hands out at his sides. "This is getting ridiculous!"

Having heard Elizabeth's voice himself, Dembe gestured towards the house. "We need to see what is in that house." He said. "We are finding no answers out here."

"I'm not one for standing around with my thumb up my ass." Red nodded his acquiescence.

"Let's do this!"

Nodding tightly, Red took the first steps needed... with Dembe close on his heels.


LIZZINGTON


Scurrying rapidly back the way she came, Liz slid to an abrupt stop on the marble floor when she heard the distinct sound of footsteps and the creak of the front door opening.

The woman's feet slipped on the slick floor before she caught traction. She stared at the front entrance with alarm. A lightning strike lit the room. She rushed for a nook in which to hide just as the door slammed hard against a neighboring wall.

"All I did was turn the knob," Red explained to the man behind him, "and it flew open." he shrugged. "These old houses are drafty, though."

Relieving Dembe of the basket in his hands, Red stepped aside so the man could close the door.

Dembe reached for the door, only to have it yank from his fingers and slam shut, rattling the windows beside it.

Red glanced around, impressed by the solid construction of the house. "There really is a bit draft, see?"

"You know my feelings on the matter." Dembe walked past, eyeing his surroundings critically... suspiciously.

"I didn't notice the candlelight outside," Red gestured to the numerous candles, "did you?"

"No," Dembe's jaw tightened, along with his tone, "... no, I did not."

"Oh, my god!" Liz bolted from her hiding place, running for the man and safety, for she now recognized the intruders into this house of horrors. "Oh, my god, Red!"

"Lizzy..." Red smiled happily, having finally found what he needed to find. "I was wondering where you–"

"Red!" Liz ran the length of the hall, her eyes focused intently on the man. "Red, it is you, right?" She had halted instantly, gaping at the man.

Red nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. "Yes... yes, it's me," he smiled, then gestured to the man behind him, "and I've brought Dembe."

He lifted the basket in his hand, his smile brightening. "We have fried chicken."

"The house," she panted breathlessly, running the last few feet, "the house is haunted!" She slammed hard into his outstretched arm, jostling the basket dangerously.

"As I said." Dembe replied stoically, taking the basket from Raymond's hands.

Red glanced down quizzically when the woman grabbed hold of him, frantically feeling his arms, her shaky touch traveling up to his biceps.

"Oh, thank god!" Liz explained her actions, breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought my hand might vanish into your aura!"

"Lizzy, calm down." Red grasped the woman's chilled hands in his warmer ones. "Now...tell me, what's this all about?"

"Well, I was talking to the dead guy," she waved a careless hand, totally missing Red's lifted brows for the remark, "and I heard something fall, I don't know," she rapidly explained, "so I went to see what it was."

"And what was it?" Red voiced his curiosity calmly.

"I don't know," Liz wrung anxious hands, "probably a tortured soul falling into the bowels of hell!"

"All right..." Red held his smile, for the woman seemed truly upset. "Then what happened?"

"That's when the maniacal children started laughing at me," Liz hurriedly described all what had happened, her hands gripping Red's coat front in a death grip.

"Children?" Red looked at Dembe questioningly. They hadn't seen any children, though he guessed, since it was rather dark outside due to the approaching storm, some could have been starting their trick or treating early.

"I was creeped out, but if that wasn't enough, the damned the wind chimes started," Liz rapidly continued. "Which was incredibly weird, if you ask me," she stressed her aggravation, "because I haven't heard them the entire time I was here, then all of a sudden it was like someone was ringing a damn dinner bell!"

Jabbing a curt hand towards the outside elements, Liz proved her point as the trees outside appeared to be caught in a hurricane force wind. "As if it just then suddenly got windy outside, when we all know, it's like a fucking wind tunnel out there, right?!"

Red's mouth quirked hearing, the vulgarity from Lizzy's sweet mouth.

"Then the door took on a life of its own," she pointed the needed direction. "I swore a crazed psycho would break through it any moment, yelling, Here's Johnny!" she slapped her hands over her face, shivering in revulsion.

"That didn't happen, though." Red pointed out a bright aspect.

"No, but only because the smoke monster got to the door first." Liz gulped frantically. "The damned thing wished to possess my soul, Red...really it did. I could feel it."

"Smoke monster?" Red nodded politely, arching a brow.

"It crept along like the Blob, as if searching for a body to inhabit!" Liz related what she saw.

"What happened with the children?" Red wondered aloud, for she had glossed over that part.

"What happened to the children?!" she wailed. "They probably died a horrible death when they were young and continue to haunt the shitty place to this very day, Red! That's what probably happened."

"But... they were laughing?" Red wanted to make sure he understood everything being said.

"Yes, they were laughing!" Liz shrieked. "Like the Children of the Damned coming out of the cornfield to go frolic in the forest, where they haunt unsuspecting campers with their creepy ass laughter!"

"That's Children of the Corn, sweetheart." Red corrected. "Did they laugh in that movie?" he checked with Dembe on that one.

"I always get the two movies confused." Dembe confessed. "Speaking of cornfields, do you recall the Twilight Zone episode with the little boy who put the people in the cornfield?"

"Excellent episode." Red remembered.

"Red! I don't want to end up in the cornfield!" Liz gasped, shaking Red's lapels strongly, clinging to the man, her wild eyes searching the room for any perceived threats.

"Nobody does, Elizabeth." Dembe reminded staunchly as he unfurled a picnic blanket to lay upon the floor.

"Lizzy, sweetheart," Red soothed the woman's fraught nerves, his hands covering hers gently, "you're just hungry."

Wrapping his arms about the hysterical woman, Red turned, taking Elizabeth with him. "Let's just sit down, eat and maybe you'll feel better."

"O-Okay..." Liz exhaled shakily. She swallowed hard, once again, checking the space about her and beyond into the darkened foyer and up the stairs.

"That's a good girl," Red comfortingly stroked her hair.

"Are there drumsticks?" Liz asked sullenly, retaining her hold on Red's shirt front.

"Everything you could want, we brought." Red assured softly.

"I-I guess I am a little hungry..." Liz reluctantly allowed the man to assist her to the provided blanket before he, too, sat down.

Red smiled when the woman inched closer to his side until their thighs touched. She checked over her shoulder every few seconds, but seemed to calm down as Red spooned some of the treats available to her plate.

"I've brought wine," Red made mention, then noticed the visible trembling in Lizzy's fingers, "but perhaps you shouldn't partake at this time."

"T-Thank you." Liz took the piled high plate and sweet tea Dembe offered over.

Though her tummy was doing somersaults, Liz attempted a bite, then sighed her bliss. It was just as she had hoped it would be. Her nerves settled instantly as something more substantial caught her wandering attention...finally.

"I told you..." Red grinned when he heard the woman's yummy sound of approval.

Too starved to reply, Liz tucked into the food, tearing into the savory meat and creamy peas with relish. In between bites, she virtually inhaled the cornbread, licking her fingers clean of crumbs.

In hopes of calming the woman further, Red and Dembe carried a running commentary about anything of interest they had heard on the radio coming over...or Dembe had pulled off the net when not occupied elsewhere.

By the time they got to dessert, Lizzy was chuckling quietly and much more relaxed than when he arrived.

Having finally had her fill, Liz slowed in her attack, savoring her peach cobbler. "What are you guys," she managed between mouthfuls, "doing here?" She jerked her eyes towards the men. "Not that I'm not glad you're here, I am!"

Red held his expression when the woman lifted his wineglass, draining it of its contents.

"As I said, I did not like the thought of you being all alone, without backup." Red dabbed his face with a cloth napkin. "We were in the neighborhood." he shrugged the small white lie away, pouring another glass of the sweet Merlot. "Two birds, but with one stone."

"Oh, I'm stuffed." Liz leaned back on her hands, resting her fingers along Red's. "I better get moving, or I'll fall asleep."

Lifting from the floor, Liz smiled up at Red. "I'm really happy you guys are here, to watch my back."

"In this house, it is advisable that someone do so." Dembe said.

Red cut the man a slow, chastising look. "Really? Don't you start again."

"We are here," Dembe dismissed the chastisement. "That is all that matters."

"Big chicken shit," Red muttered under his breath.

"What?" Liz looked between the two.

"Nothing, sweetheart." Red waved the issue aside. "So, what's the procedure you wish us to follow?"

"Do you think," Liz grimaced adorably, "there's a workable bathroom?"

Red looked down the hall, gesturing to a nearby door. "Perhaps there?"

Shrugging, Liz headed for the door, indeed finding a powder room. "How did you know this was here?" she looked at the man suspiciously, some of her nerves jangling somewhat.

"That's where I'd put one." Red replied.

"I'll uh, just be a minute." She glanced into the dark space, squinting hard.

"We're here," Red assured, stepping closer to her position, offering her a candle to better see the space.

"Oh, yeah." Liz hurried inside. "This is better."

Red looped the foyer, seemingly checking out the rooms visible to him. He had another objective in mind, however. He stealthily circled back, creeping up behind his unsuspecting friend. He could not resist poking Dembe's side with a playful finger.

Dembe cried out a guttural gasp, jumping at least a foot into the air in response.

Red's laughter rang out in the hallowed halls.

Backing away from Red's vicinity, Dembe's face registered his annoyance. He settled into his usual fastidious self with but one glare of disapproval Red's way. "If I had my weapon pulled..." He left the sentence unfinished, but Red got the point, laughing again, his mood suddenly high and carefree.

Dembe shook his head for such juvenile behavior, stepping a few feet to examine his own side of the shadowy, dark rooms. He peered closely into a rather vacuous room, allowing his eyes to adjust to the murky depths within.

Instantly, a white, furry creature took shape, towering over the tall man, the scent of age and mildew accosting Dembe's nostrils. He jumped again, quickly retracing his steps.

"Fuck!" He hurriedly shined his light on the towering creature, his face one of etched terror.

Chuckling at the farce he just witnessed, Red came to stand beside his panicked friend, squinting at the silhouette hidden in the darkened alcove.

"What is that?" Red's own flashlight traveled the length of the white fur, examining the find meticulously, his features carefully controlled. "I believe that is a stuffed polar bear, Dembe...what are your thoughts?"

He looked up at the rather imposing trophy, who was posed in a most fearsome stance of clawed hands spread out to capture any unsuspecting intruders into its private domain.

"That is one big mother." Dembe sighed heavily.

"Wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley." Red nodded sagely, moving on about his way. "You said fuck...you hardly ever use profanity. Color me impressed."

"Shut up, Raymond."

Both men froze when a loud crashing sound and Lizzy's scream of terror echoed about the lower floor.

"Lizzy!" Red bolted for her location. Damning propriety, he yanked the door open, his eyes wild and searching the interior. "Where are you?" He could not see very far in the complete darkness.

"The tree!" Liz pointed frantically, her features ghostly pale. "The tree's trying to eat me!" She slammed into his chest yet again, making him cough a bit. She hastily made her way behind his back, peering cautiously over his shoulder, pointing a panicked finger in the needed direction.

Glancing over his shoulder at the cowering woman, Red arched a wry brow. "I mean, us!" she hastily corrected herself. "It's trying to eat us!"

"Just as it did on Poltergeist." Dembe helpfully added, his own eyes calmly observing the window Liz had so helpfully pointed out. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room in swatches of streaking light from time to time.

"Not helping, Dembe." Red mumbled, peering out the window, only to see a group of branches pressed against the pane, whipping about in the winds.

Liz sought Red, pure panic in her eyes. "Someone blew my candle out!" She offered in a breathy exclamation, pointing again.

All Red could see was...nothing but the vague outline of the toilet.

Giving the woman a reassuring look, Red parted the drapes of a neighboring window, gesturing to the ground below.

"Lizzy, the trunk of this tree here is simply rotted away." She looked to where he pointed, sighing shakily. "The wind was bound to knock it down at some point."

Searching the area methodically. "Are there any tombstones out there?" She lifted hesitant eyes.

"I want you to come back out here," Red led the woman forward, "and sit down for a minute and catch your breath."

"But...somebody blew out my candle, Red."

Liz meekly sat in the chair Red indicated and took a couple deep breaths. "You're right... everything's fine." She soothed, rocking back and forth as she did so. "It's fine. I was wrong. It was just some branches and no tombstones."

"Where's your phone?" Red had noted the absence of the cell but wanted to make certain she did not retain possession of the object.

"I dropped it, remember?" Liz scowled. "Or... did you not hear me?" She looked at him oddly. "Or...did you hear me, and they've wiped your memory..."

"I heard you," Red said, recalling how unnerving the call had been. "All right, we'll find your phone, call to get the ETA on whoever the hell is coming...then we can get you out of here."

Stepping out onto the porch for they now had flashlights with which to search, Red scowled when he noticed the windows were once again void of any light.

"What the..." he canted his head. "Are the candles still lit in there?" He called back, his mind puzzled.

Grasping the doorframe, Liz stretched back to see. "No, not really... the wind is making the flames all nutty."

"I'm not seeing it." Taking a step back, Red looked through the doorway, just catching a glimpse of the warm shadow of the candlelight flickering on the wall. "I wonder why?"

"You know why!" Liz frowned hard, crossing her arms over her chest as Dembe nodded staunchly at her side.

"What is wrong with you two?" Red scolded.

"The house is haunted!" Liz and Dembe replied in unison.

Slowly shifting his eyes their way, Red pulled his phone free, dialing Lizzy's number. Leaning casually against a nearby post, he patiently waited for the phone to ring.

All three turned towards the sound and pulled up short when they noticed the phone sat atop a nearby table.

"H-How is that possible?" Liz's grip on the doorjamb tightened.

"I would say, it's impossible." Red walked towards the phone. "But in this damned place, maybe it is."

Answering the still ringing phone, Red's attention shifted when he heard Lizzy's whispering voice. "...Red." the sensual sound echoed in the quiet of the foyer.

"T-That's my voice..." Liz pointed, her mouth gaping.

"Yeah, I got that." Red looked queerly at the phone, then back to Lizzy.

"Red..." Her voice repeated, "I'm sorry..." the small voice wavered, "...help... me."

Liz's eyes widened, her lower lip began to tremble. "I sound... kinda upset."

Red's mood altered to anger, for the message itself pissed him off. Someone was trying to frighten the hell out of this woman. That someone would rue the day he was born.

Red waved his fingers at Lizzy. "Get your ass over here."

Not wasting one second, Liz rushed for the man, gripping his outstretched hand, her own fingers cold to the touch.

"Don't leave my side." Red instructed. He squeezed her hand when he noticed the woman's attention remained focused on the phone, and the voice still issuing from it.

Red slapped the phone closed, silencing the voice. Placing a gentle finger beneath Lizzy's chin, he lifted her eyes to his. "You got it? You stay by me."

"Yeah... okay." Liz inched alongside the man, her gaze shifting this way and that.

Glancing over his shoulder, Red located Dembe. The man's weapon was in hand, trained downward, as he scanned the area about them with alert eyes.

"Oh, my god!" Liz pointed behind Dembe, her eyes widened with fear, her arm raised to indicate her meaning. "The body! It's gone!"

Turning to the area, finding nothing out of the ordinary, Red scowled. "Are you sure this was where it was?"

With the emotional turmoil Elizabeth was under, Red couldn't help question the validity of her statement.

"What do you mean, am I sure it was there!" Liz squawked. "I think I know a dead body when I happen upon one...I'm a trained observer, you know."

"Okay," Red held up a placating hand. "Let's look around and see if we can't find him, all right?"

"Dammit, Elizabeth!" Red chided when he glanced around, only to find the woman had inexplicably headed up the stairs.

"Do not go up those stairs, Elizabeth." Dembe called after the retreating woman.

"Shit!" She stopped in her tracks, gesturing frantically. "Oh, my god...he's here. He's right here, guys!"

Red arrived on scene, crouching down beside the body. He checked for a pulse.

"Don't..." Liz blurted, "don't touch him." She said. "I'm well-trained in the proper handling of a dead body."

"Lizzy," Red looked up at the woman, "I'm merely wishing to ascertain if the man is truly dead."

"Ressler said–"

"Need I remind you, Ressler is an idiot." Red lifted a stare. "He's still warm."

"What? How is that possible?" Liz voiced her disbelief.

Shrugging, Red closed his eyes and focused his attention to detect a heartbeat, breathing or movement of any sort, but found none.

"Well... this is unexpected." Red motioned to the puncture wounds on the man's neck. "Is there something you aren't telling me about what may have occurred here?"

"When I profiled the case years ago," Liz began, her voice still strained, "the only thing each murder had in common was that they all occurred on Halloween."

Lifting from his crouched position, Red waited, knowing damn well there was more to it. "...And?"

"Due to the puncture wounds," Liz hesitantly continued, "I also believe the man thinks–"

"Let me guess," Red rolled his eyes, "... he's a vampire."

Liz winced in response. "...Yeah." She shrugged. "Crazy, right?"

"That's putting it mildly." Red moved on because there was nothing more difficult for the sane to do than make sense of the insane. "Let's get the body back downstairs where we can watch it."

"Then what?" Liz wanted to know.

"One thing at a time, Lizzy." Looking over his shoulder, Red frowned, then looked the other way. He slowly turned, searching for his friend. "Where the hell is Dembe?"

"I am here." Dembe replied stonily.

Red glanced around, for theincorporeal voice seemed to emanate from every point of reference. "Where?"

Leaning over the banister, Liz pointed. "There he is."

Red looked over the banister to the first floor. The man in question stood at the threshold of the house, waiting to bolt any second like the chickenshit he was.

"Would you get your ass up here." Red grumbled, jabbing a finger to where he needed the man to be.

"We had rules, Raymond." Dembe reminded flatly.

"Just...get up here!" Red snapped curtly. "I don't want Lizzy lifting this guy."

Reluctantly leaving his sanctuary, Dembe eased his way up the steps very slowly.

Red tapped his foot irritably until the man was beside him. "I can't believe you..." he whispered tightly. "You grab his feet, I got the head." He directed.

"He's rather heavy for being so thin." Dembe remarked as they lifted the man, struggling with the body on the stairs.

"Just dead weight, Dembe." Red hoisted the guy higher. "But, yes, he's pretty heavy. Unusually so, now that you mention it."

"Dead weight...I get it." Liz chuckled nervously. "Yeah, that's a good one, Red." She felt bad then, seeing the face of the man again staring at her so obliquely. "Oh, I'm sorry, mister...I meant no offense by that and neither did he."

Red spared her a glance, easing the guy into a more workable position.

"Don't you think," Liz hurried alongside them, "we should put him back where he was?"

"I don't know, Lizzy," Red nudged his chin to keep going, "it couldn't have been too comfortable laying on the stairs there, since we seem to be overly concerned for his comfortand welfare."

"Oh," Liz nodded emphatically, "right, yes."

Chuckling, Red stepped down to the first floor. "Right here, Dembe. This is fine." They bent, laying the dead guy on the floor. He stooped, unbuttoning the corpse's shirt.

"W-What are you doing?" Liz balked. "That's creepy, stop it."

"You should not defile the dead." Dembe's deep baritone advised stoically.

"I think I know why he's so heavy." Red looked at them both with a scolding stare. "He's weighted down." He said, pointing at the now visible weights on the guy's waist. Rifling through the guy's pockets, he handed Dembe the wallet he found. "Dembe, can you follow up this ID?"

Shrugging, Dembe hurriedly texted Glen the needed information.

"You said he was lying on the stairs?" Red said.

"He was kinda just... sprawled there." Liz imitated the condition in which she found the body, arms akimbo, head tilted at a weird angle.

"Sprawled, you say." Red questioned the contortion of her body with his expression.

"Well, his feet were there," she pointed to a particular stair, "and his head was laying there," she motioned to another lower stair, "with his arms laying outstretched, towards us. Sorta like he was crowd surfing."

"That's exactly where you found him?" Red pointed to the area.

"I-I took pictures!" Grabbing her camera, Liz lifted it for the man to see. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"I think someone was dragging him out to toss his dead ass into a lake." Red got straight to the point. "When he was interrupted by Ressler and Navabi."

Liz's mouth gaped as she scrolled through the memory card, finding nothing from her time here. Not one damn thing except photos of herself.

"I-I didn't take these!" Liz was positive, showing her finds.

"I know you didn't." Red's eyes narrowed. Though the photographs appeared to be taken at arm's length, the angle was all wrong. There were also a couple taken at a distance.

"Am I going crazy?" Liz seriously questioned her actions. "Tell me the truth. I can take it."

Pulling the woman into his arms, Red kissed her forehead, softly murmuring words of assurance. "No..." he murmured, "I'd say, someone's gaslighting you."

"What?" Liz pulled her head back, but didn't leave the comfort or security of Red's arms. "Why? Why would anyone be so mean?"

"I would imagine whoever left the body to begin with." Red hazard a guess. "Most serial killers like to think they form a bond with the agent profiling them, because you understand him." He said. "This may be one of those times."

"What are we gonna do?" Liz wailed her consternation.

"Find the bastard." Red said.

"How can we find him?" Liz wanted to know.

"Lizzy, you're an FBI agent, or at least, you should be...you know how to do this." He reminded, albeit gently.

"Oh..right!" She nodded emphatically. "Of course, I do. I'm following here."

"He's obviously here," Red concluded. "So, we're gonna search the house, top to bottom."

Red glanced at his comrade, the one who had a skeptical look on his face. "Dembe, this house is not haunted, for goodness sake."

"I believe differently." Dembe disagreed.

"So do I!" Liz defended Dembe's belief. "How else do you explain the children laughing?"

"You said you were talking to yourself... or rather, the dead guy, right?" Red reasoned.

"Yeah..." Liz shrugged.

"What did you talk about?" Red lifted curious brows.

"I don't know," Liz twisted her lips, "that it was weird to talk to dead people," she remembered she had said that, "and that I didn't believe in ghosts..." she canted her head, thinking hard. "Oh!" she gasped, then hastily attempted to muffle her surprise.

"You talked about kids laughing at some point." Red knew well enough Lizzy was hiding something. "Didn't you?"

"...Yeah." Liz admitted after a brief hesitation. "But the sounds started like a minute after!"

"You said you heard the sound and went to investigate, right?" Red remembered.

"Yes, I heard a can get kicked along the floor." Liz imitated the action with her foot.

"Which I'm assuming acted as a diversion to give your killer time to cue up the sound of kids laughing." Red ticked off on his finger. "And give the guy access to your camera."

"...Oh," Liz bit her lip thoughtfully, "yeah... I guess so." she admitted it was a possibility. "What about the wind chimes, Red, or the door... or when the ghost grabbed my ankle!"

Rubbing his eyes, Red snickered quietly. "Wind chimes are a nostalgic sound, most usually creating an eerie feeling," he said. "They are a natural source if one wishes to set a mood."

"And the door and ankle grabbing!" Liz demanded he explain those. "They happened on opposite sides of the hallway!"

Releasing a disgruntled sigh, Red focused on Elizabeth. "Show me where this demonic door is."

Liz stiffened, not wishing to step foot in that hallway again.

"I'm here," Red softened his tone. "You'll be fine."

"I-I know." Liz felt better Red was here.

"You also know I won't let anything hurt you." He assured, gently squeezing her hand with his.

Nodding jerkily, Liz took a tentative step, making sure Red was right beside her before venturing further.

Walking the short distance, Liz gestured to the area she had been. "It's there...see the one that looks like it's a portal to hell?"

"You were standing here," Red murmured quietly, placing himself on the opposite wall, "when the asshole grabbed you?"

"Yes." Liz confirmed softly, adopting Red's hushed tone.

"I'm betting that door," he motioned to the demon door, "is likely on a pulley system connected to this room," he gestured to the opposite door, laying everything out for her, and Dembe, who was hanging on his every word, "where your ankle grabbing murderer was hiding out."

Glancing at Dembe, Liz grimaced slightly. "It... it does make sense, right, Dembe?"

"If you say so." Dembe gripped the weapon in his hand, regardless.

"If you don't think this spirit has corporeal form," Red pointed to the weapon in Dembe's hand, "put your gun away... before you pop off on one of us for casting a shadow."

"Red..." Liz tsked softly.

Lifting his weapon, Red turned, kicking the door without hesitation. The door slammed open; the doorknob sinking deep into the drywall.

Shining the flashlight inside the space, Dembe craned his head, checking things out. "It appears empty."

Rolling his eyes, Red stepped into the room, looking around himself, then smiled. "Here's your ghost." he pointed.

Inching into the room together, Liz and Dembe turned towards one another to fit through the door.

Squinting in the darkened interior, Liz could just make out what looked to be... a pulley system, just as Red said.

Glancing to his left, Red reached out, flicking a nearby light switch, bathing the room in light. "Would you look at that..." he especially was rather smug toward his constant companion.

Liz blinked at the sudden brightness, her eyes having trouble adjusting after being with only candlelight for so long.

"Pull it, Lizzy." Red gestured to the rope. He grinned when the woman reached for the rope, then hesitated.

"What if I pull it and fall into a hole in the ground?" Liz asked plaintively. "It could happen. And then I wind up in the basement from hell or some sort of torture chamber."

"I'll give you that." Red gave the statement credence. "We'll do it together then."

Coming to stand beside the woman, Red placed his hand beside her, giving the silk rope a gentle tug.

The door opposite them popped open, and continued to open the more they pulled on the rope, then stopped when they released it.

"That bastard..." Liz cursed. "How could I be so gullible? Damn!" She practically stamped her foot.

"Reacting to psychological warfare does not make you gullible, Lizzy." Red soothed fraught nerves.

"It's nice you want to make me feel better," Liz smiled up at the man, "but it's just a glorified Halloween haunted house."

"Unlike the haunted houses people run laughing and screaming from throughout the month of October," Red reminded, "...this one," he gestured to the house they were standing in, "is all too real."

The ready argument Liz had prepared turned to ash in her mouth, hearing those words.

"Two people now have been murdered here, that we know of, anyway." Red stressed. "One of them, earlier this evening. You had every right to be unsettled." He glanced at Dembe, arching a brow. "You, not so much."

Liz's mouth curved into a soft smile when Dembe gave Red a disgusted, sour look. "Why can't he have been spooked by what was happening?" She said. "I mean, I thought it was a ghost... or spirit, whatever."

"Because our resident strong man started his haunted house diatribe way before we even pulled through the gate." Crouching, Red felt the floor, nodding. "You had already been in the house, and knew something was off when you heard–"

"The can get kicked along the floor." Liz remembered the sound had been eerily out of place.

"...Yes." Red murmured. He inched his way across the room, his palm flat against the expensive flooring.

"What are you doing?" Liz asked, watching the man feel along the floorboards.

"The floor is heated." Red said. "Which likely explains why the corpse hasn't gone cold."

"I've always wanted heated floors...what a luxury." Liz looked at the hardwood in a different light.

Dembe removed his phone from his pocket when his phone chimed. "It is Glen." he said, opening the man's text.

"Speaking of corpses." Red muttered. "What does the goblin have to say on this matter?"

"The dead man was George Gardner," Dembe read the text, "... he was the gardener here."

"I knew you were going to say that." Red muttered. "It also explains the overgrowth outside... guess someone offed him before he could get to the fall cleanup." he quipped.

Pushing to his feet, Red sought Lizzy's hand once more, leading her to the door. "Remember, stay beside me... no running off."

Liz rushed forward, heaving a kick at the demon door across the way, only to have the heavy object rebound hurriedly toward her. She shrieked loudly, rushing for Red's hand, putting herself out of harm's way.

The man sighed lightly, going about his way, the woman in tow.

"What are we doing?" Liz asked, trailing after the man.

"We're doing a room-by-room search." Red said, indicating. "Tap the walls...listen for hollow sounds." He directed. "These old houses often had hidden servant staircases."

He knew well enough, for he found one in his home in Rhode Island. In fact, he also found a hidden office, library, and liquor storage. Much to his delight, the vintage books and liquor were still in place and in excellent condition.

Searching each room methodically, they found nothing of use. Gravitating downstairs, they performed the same routine.

"I'm guessing the coat closet is our best bet." Dembe crossed at Red's gesture, opening the door to the rather spacious area. The man thumped methodically until a hollow point was located.

Red ran his hands over the walls and over the shelves.

"There is a corresponding space upstairs, Raymond." Dembe had noted the fact.

Red sighed his frustration, his hands going to his hips. He studied the problem for a long beat.

Dark paneling linked the entire space. Moving about the enclosed closet, a smile lighted his face finally.

"And here it is, right by the main staircase." Red gave the woman a pointed look. "There's a seam here." He ran his finger along the break in the wood.

"Now, we just need to find the mechanism which operates whatever it operates." Red said.

Having read and watched enough mysteries in their lives, each person immediately started moving everything not bolted down.

Stepping back, Liz slowly scanned the closet until her eyes rested on a small block of wood nailed to the wall.

Reaching out, she gripped it with her fingers, slowly turning it counterclockwise. As hoped, the door beside Red suddenly popped open, allowing them to see a sliver of what lay beyond that.

The low sound of music drifted upward through the crack. The funky beat, accompanied by the airy hum of an organ, floated up the dank space.

Each ear was turned to the sounds.

"Is...is that Vincent Price?" Liz asked breathlessly.

"That song is so cliche. Does no one play Monster Mash anymore?" Red quietly pushed the door open.

"Well, I like it." Liz replied sullenly. She hastily caught the man's arm, stopping Red from further opening the door when she heard a pronounced creak which slithered along her nerve endings.

"That wasn't me," Red soothed frayed nerves, "it's the song."

Heading down the thin staircase, Red glanced back, shaking his head when he noted Dembe stepping in time with the syncopated rhythm of Michael Jackson's hit song.

"It is a catchy tune, Red, admit it." Liz defended Dembe's actions.

Stepping around the corner, Red pulled up short when he was met with the sight of a couple dozen monitors. All had views of the house and grounds splashed across their screens.

"Cameras..." Red pointed in passing. Looking over the elaborate sound deck, he reached to press a button.

"What are you doing!" Liz whispered urgently.

"Pushing buttons?" Red said, continuing his pastime. The sound of wind chimes flittered merrily in the dank space. Pressing another, they heard the chilling sound of children laughing.

"Was that what you heard?" Red asked.

"Yes..." Liz nodded. "What's that one?" The woman stopped herself from reaching for the brightly lit green button.

Shrugging, Red hit it.

The sound of his phone ringing interrupted his movements. He answered it automatically. The ghostly whisper of Elizabeth's voice floated into the air.

"He's got quiet the set up down here, doesn't he." Red snapped the phone closed.

Stepping further into the cavernous space, Red rounded another corner, glancing back at Dembe, offering the guy a contrite grin.

"I stand corrected, Dembe." He motioned ahead. "There actually is a torture chamber down here."

"There always is." Dembe didn't seem to be surprised.

Liz gasped, something catching her eyes. She rushed forward, her senses straining.

"Dammit, Elizabeth," Red hurried after her, "did we not discuss this!"

The man pulled up short as Lizzy neared her objective. Red was shocked to see... a woman shackled to the far wall, hidden in the shadow of an overhang.

"Samar!" Liz's frantic eyes swept her friend's slumped form. She had raked the dark hair from the woman's face, her own expression incredulous. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Lifting her head, the woman agent searched out the sound of other people's presence, the dark eyes glazed and disoriented. Samar Navabi stared at the faces staring back at her.

She shook her head as if to clear it, a string of profanities coming from behind her gagged mouth as her senses began to clear somewhat.

Red noted the leather straps attached to the woman's wrists...which were subsequently attached to the wall behind.

"She appears slightly displeased." Dembe observed cryptically.

"You'd be pissed too if someone tied you to a..." Red halted his narrative, unsure if his intent applied to Dembe Zuma. He went to Samar's side, removing his pocketknife because Lizzy was having all sorts of difficulty with the knots.

"Who did this!" Liz asked the still muffled woman. "Where's Ressler? Are you hurt?"

Samar groaned her rising annoyance and ready anger at the predicament she now found herself within.

"Lizzy," Red gently untied the bandana, his chastisement a scolding one, "perhaps we should wait for her to catch her breath, hum?"

"Oh, right, yes." Liz grimaced apologetically. "Can I get you something, Samar? We got some chicken wings upstairs."

"Stop right there." A husky rasp ordered, the tone one to be obeyed.

Pulling Elizabeth towards him, Red placed himself between Lizzy and Samar, his bulk blocking sight of the ladies.

Instinctively, his hand moved toward his weapon, but he stopped the motion, for his antagonist already brandished a weapon and it was pointed directly at Red's heart. The glint of the polished steel was unmistakable even in the dim light of the cavern.

"Let me guess," Red eyed the newcomer coolly, "our resident fiend?"

"I have plans here that don't include you." The man's distorted whisper rattled nerves. Or at least, Elizabeth Keen's. She moved closer to Red Reddington.

"I see," Red sighed heavily, already bored with the drama. "So, what now? You're going to kill us?"

"I had not planned to," the man seemed to hesitate over the issue, "but now..." The clearly disguised voice trailed away.

"What plans?" Liz blurted. "You said...you had plans. You know, of course...others are aware of this place. Of what happened here. They are on their way even as we..."

Growling angrily behind her gag, Samar pulled at the leather restraints holding her securely, her eyes blazing her hatred which was directed at the newcomer in their midst.

"Samar...do you know this guy?" Red picked up on something. He patted the woman's arm with a patient indulgence. "Let me get to the bottom of this, okay? We'll sort it out."

"Always the one that has to be in charge, aren't you, Reddington." There was definitely some rage behind that statement.

"Do I know you?" Red turned his attention back where it was needed.

Releasing an abrupt shriek, Liz backed away, as the man opposite them finally stepped into the light.

"It's a mask, Lizzy." Red soothed expertly, having offered no response what-so-ever.

The mask was reminiscent of Pennywise, the clown from hell. Only the face was more elongated as though it had melted a little.

"Nice hair." Red grumbled. "Only, it's the wrong color." He said of the multi-colored wig worn by clowns in a circus. "Can't you ever get anything right, you idiot?"

"...Red." Liz whispered tensely. "Don't antagonize him."

"Yes," the stranger grated, his voice chillingly quiet, "don't antagonize me."

"Why ever not." Red laughed derisively. "What the hell is the point of being a clown?" He waved a hand over the man's garb. "You're the one who chose the damned costume."

"Oh, my god..." Liz groaned through her teeth. "He...is also the one with the weapon." Which was still very much pointed directly at Red.

"Elizabeth," Red looked over his shoulder, "you assured me the man was a vampire."

"How do you know I am not one?" The man whispered tauntingly. "It would explain to everyone's satisfaction why all these bodies, drained of their life source... are found in such a place. Thank you, Reddington." The laugh was a rather sinister one. "For supplying the logical reason to end my dilemma."

"You don't have to worry about any of that shit." Red whipped his gun free, shooting the clown in the leg.

The sound reverberated around the room. Liz cringed, gasping audibly.

The clown...went down.

"That is no vampire." Dembe observed enigmatically.

"Yeah...didn't think so." Red watched the clown wither around on the floor, cursing and spewing forth rather colorful metaphors. "There's a cross right behind the guy...he didn't even seem to note as much." He motioned to the Celtic design. "Why would anyone hang a cross down here in the dungeon area?"

"Where else is it needed the most?" Dembe philosophized.

Liz's mouth gaped as the assailant wailed loudly from behind his mask. He held his wound, rolling back and forth in agony.

"Okay, Ronald McDonald..." Red stooped, getting the guy's wayward attention. "You gonna tell us what this is all about, or do we do things the hard way?"

"Raymond," Dembe was reading the texts coming through, getting Raymond's wayward attention. "Glen is saying, there are tentative plans to clear this land for development. A mega-mall is projected to be erected on this very sight in the very near future."

"I have enough investments to last me a lifetime, Dembe...talking to the clown here." Red tossed his hands out at his side.

Dembe afforded the guy an odd glance before continuing. "There was a succession of beneficiaries to this property," he lifted his phone for Raymond to see, "but none would sign to transfer."

"Ah, I'm starting to understand now." Red nodded. "Let me guess, all the murder victims have been these beneficiaries."

"Your assumption is correct." Dembe confirmed, slipping his phone in his pocket.

Red looked down at the bleeding man on the floor. "And who is our odd man out, pray tell."

Kneeling beside the man, Dembe yanked the mask off for all to see.

"Zoinks! It's Ressler!" Liz's mouth dropped agape. "What the hell!" The woman's disbelief was apparent. "Samar, do you believe this shit!"

Liz snapped her head about to check with the totally pissed off Mossad agent, who just then...irritably rattled the chains attached to the leather cuffs.

"Oh, shit!" Liz hurried to the woman's side, apologizing profusely for her inactivity. "I'm so sorry! Shit!" She unfastened the straps as quickly as humanly possible while Samar seethed. "I'm sorry!"

"I should have known." Red tsked, leaning against a nearby table, his weapon dangling from his hand, which was on his hip. "You've always had a chip on your shoulder."

"I would have gotten away with it," Ressler snapped his discord, "had it not been for you...you meddling bastard!"

"Like I haven't heard that before." Red disdained.

"Call a fucking ambulance!" Ressler snapped his ire. "I'm bleeding here!"

"Was he even listed as a beneficiary?" Red sought out Dembe's phone.

Dembe confirmed Red's hypothesis. "Agent Ressler–"

"Soon-to-be former, agent." Red remarked.

"Apparently worked here during his youth, as a pool boy." Dembe finished.

Liz stopped untying Samar's straps. "There's a pool?"

"The owner was a generous man." Dembe stated his opinion. "Not only with his heirs, but those he considered extended family."

Red glanced at the clown. "You're pig slime, man, just saying...and an idiot."

"Screw you, Reddington." Ressler hissed through his teeth. "I've hated you since day one! Coming in here like you were the be all and end all. Ordering Federal agents around like we were your own private servants! Who the hell do you think you are? And our government blithely allowing you free rein!"

"Just makes you sick, doesn't it." Red commiserated. "Drive you off the deep end, did it?"

"I hate you!" Ressler spat venomously. "You get away with murder...why shouldn't I?"

"Obviously, because I'm so much better at it than you." Red shrugged. "Besides, Mr. Kaplan knows how to hide all the bodies. And I've never killed someone just for a few dollars...you imbecile."

"Millions of dollars, asshole! Millions!" Ressler crackled his glee. "I would have been right up there with you and all your Cayman bank accounts!"

"You'll never be my equal, boy." Red scoffed. "Get real. I've got money, power, material possessions out the ass–"

"I've got more hair!" Ressler bit out caustically.

Waving off the insult, Red stood, giving the man a sour look. "You're just pissed I'm gonna get the girl." He shrugged, giving Lizzy a slow once over. "But hey, that part I get. It's understandable. The rest? You're still pig slime."

Liz smiled brightly at Dembe. "I am the girl, right?" she whispered anxiously. "Not..." she motioned to a still tied up Agent Navabi. One hand was free, which the woman in question used to scratch her nose, which had been itching for what felt like hours now.

"You are..." Dembe inclined his head regally, gallantly crossing, cutting the other strap free on the now calmer Mossad agent.

Navabi crossed the space separating herself and her former partner, kicking the guy in the nuts.

Red and Dembe both cringed empathetically at Ressler's howl of pain.

"Tie me the hell up, you red-headed pecker wood!" Samar lifted the other foot, but Red hastily stepped, preventing any more damage. "I'm going to make him a eunuch! Get out of my way!"

"That's okay...everything is fine now. No need for any more damage, surely." Red soothed any hurt feelings. "We'll bring in the CSI guys. We'll make a call right now."

"And me trying to help the asshole to the car, thinking he had broken his stupid foot." Samar started for the clown again, but Red barred the way. "I'll break it now for you...you shit!"

"Whoa, little Nellie." Red's arm caught the small waist, holding firm. "We can't explain away a lot of injuries." He explained his reasoning. "Otherwise, I'd let you go for it...trust me."

"There will be questions." Dembe nodded solemnly. "Many, many questions, indeed."

It was soon after Agents poured into the house. An ambulance had arrived sooner. Dembe and Samar had accompanied Ressler to the hospital.

Red and Lizzy had spent the wait out of the house...in Lizzy's car. The one that supposedly had caught its undercarriage on some protrusion or other.

Enjoying the sound of the rain pelting the roof of the car, they finished their picnic and were in relatively good spirits when the teams arrived.

"Lizzy, are you attending any parties this holiday?" Red asked, content with the conversation and company. "And if so...are you dressing up?"

"Actually, I was invited to Aram's party." She seemed excited and pleased at the prospect of going. "I thought I would be Morticia Addams. I always loved her style."

"So did I." The visions conjured, of Lizzy wearing the form fitting gown, were making Red's slacks a little tight.

"What about you?" Liz queried. "I suppose all that is childish to you?"

"Childish hell...I'm going as a vampire." He informed her haughtily, which made her giggle.

"I would have thought you would have had your fill of blood-letting tonight."

"I'm more interested in other bodily fluids, thank you."

"...What a coincidence." She feigned innocence. "So am I."

Red was more than pleasantly surprised by the rejoinder. "I'm liking the direction of the conversation here."

Lizzy lowered her head, hiding her smile.

"It really is a beautiful house, Red." She looked longingly at the stately mansion.

"Yeah, you really don't want me to buy that thing for you... do you?" Red had made an executive decision somewhere between lights not being seen outside while lights were on inside and...well, the place just gave off a spooky vibe he did not find attractive any longer.

"It has a pool and heated floors." She sighed lightly.

"I'll build you a house with a pool and heated floors." He leaned, kissing her gently on the forehead. "Hell...I'll build you two. And throw in a hot tub, if you like."

"I like this one..." Liz's lashes fluttered coquettishly.

Sighing, Red shrugged. "So be it."

She smiled, leaning on his shoulder. "My apartment will be just as nice to come home to tonight, though."

"Then, let's get you there, sweetheart." He made another decision. "You have had quite a night, indeed...happy Halloween, Lizzy."

"And I thought I was too old for such things." She giggled. "Thank god you were here to protect me from things that go bump in the night, Red."

"I know a few things that go bump in the night, that...you might find interesting." He quipped. "Just...pick the night."

She blushed, lowering her head then, those blue eyes lifted. "...I'm free tonight. You?"

The woman's actions gave Red pause for thought. The delivery of the words spoken, however... conjured all sorts of titillating images. He wondered, had that been Lizzy's intention?

"Red... how do you feel about biting?" Liz asked innocently, motioning to her neck. "Kinda kinky, huh?" She turned in her seat, leaning casually towards the man.

Red sincerely hoped this was not a trick...

Closing his eyes, Red held his breath until he felt the pressure of Lizzy's soft mouth move lovingly against his own.

Okay... so a treat, a damn good one at that.

Liz held herself in place until she was positive any misconceptions, if there were any... vanished into the ether.

"Oh, hell, yeah." Red muttered, hurriedly started Lizzy's car, mindless to the haunting tune playing softly in the background.

"Out of the mist, your voice is calling. 'Tis twilight time."

"Biting, licking, sucking... and whatever else," Red didn't limit the scope of the evening's activities, "... I'm so there."

Liz tittered quietly as Red backed quickly onto the driveway without a backward glance, before slamming the car into drive. Before she knew it, they were barreling past the stone columns holding the now opened gate and bouncing down the road.

"Lizzy," Red gripped the steering wheel in hand, "... you will wear your costume," hope tinged his voice, "... won't you?"

Reaching, Liz lay a hand on the man's thick thigh. "Oui, mon amour."

"Shit..." Red pushed hard on the gas, speeding down the lane, "let's get you home, baby..."


LIZZINGTON


This is Raymond Reddington, ladies and gentlemen, stepping out of character to assure you that this little melodrama has no further significance than as the holiday offering it was intended to be.

It was the NBC affiliates own version of dressing up in a sheet and jumping out of a bush and saying Boo! Starting now, we couldn't soap all your windows and steal all your garden gates in the short time allotted us...so we did the next best thing. We hopefully gave you a few chills, some misgivings, perhaps...but above all else, we hope we made you smile.

You will be relieved, I hope, to learn that we didn't mean it, and that all my constituents are still as you have always known them. So goodbye everybody, and remember the terrible lesson you learned tonight.

That grinning, glowing, globular invader of your living room is an inhabitant of the pumpkin patch, and if your doorbell rings and nobody's there, that was no ghost or goblin...it's Hallowe'en.


LIZZINGTON


Author Notes: Big shout out to Chris for helping create the banter between Red and Dembe. You crack my ass up, man! We threw in around 25 movie/tv series references, so if you notice them, good for you! If you happen to catch the reference to the last bit, you are a kindred spirit!