In the following few days that had passed, there was an odd tension between Elizabeth and Red.
Often she would find the man in quiet contemplation, his features troubled and unguarded. The minute he sensed her presence, a facade of forced cheerfulness dropped into place.
The woman did not understand Red's state of mind. She worried that, whatever the problem was, it surely must involve her somehow. This evening, it seemed that the man had purposely been obtuse when she questioned normal everyday things.
Yes, something was wrong and she determined to find out what it was that was disturbing Red so much.
Elizabeth knew Red and Dembe were home. They had arrived over an hour ago, but after dinner, the house had fallen silent.
Where she normally was comforted by the silence, tonight, she felt unsettled. Something was in the air and it left her feeling anxious and nervous.
She reached instinctively, rubbing the necklace which had yet to be removed, since Red had gifted her with the precious stones for her birthday. Worrying the gems with her fingers made her feel slightly calmer.
But nothing took away the strained atmosphere surrounding her.
What unsettled her the most, was the quality of the silence.
Something was definitely amiss.
Nearing Red's office, Liz heard the slide of metal on metal, then a heavy click as the two pieces met.
She saw Dembe first, dressed in what appeared to be all black combat gear. Aside from his black t-shirt, he wore tactical pants and a long sleeve shirt both lined in pockets. Heavy boots completed the outfit.
The man had just dropped a clip from the weapon into his hand, checking its contents before sliding it back into its proper place.
Coming further into the room, she saw Red dressed in the same manner, a little less put together than she was used to seeing him, granted.
His sleeves were casually rolled up and his pants scrunched down on top of his open and unlaced boots. He looked attractively lethal.
She had started noticing these little details about Red, about a month ago. It bothered her.
After a few inner psych sessions, she put it down to having a minor crush on his confidence and abilities. Now when it happened, she didn't try to deny the attraction. It was pointless. The more she tried to distract herself from doing so, the more she thought about him.
He turned in her direction, shotgun in hand, into which he loaded, shell after shell. The muscles in his arms rippled with the action. Extra casings lined the barrel, side saddles filled to capacity.
"Isn't that overkill for some late night squirrel hunting?" she enquired lightly.
Red raised his head, looking at her steadily. "Not if they're also armed."
He picked up a handful of clips, loading the pocket sitting on his thigh. He grabbed another handful, doing the same to the other leg. "Dembe. How many do you have?"
"Ten clips, fully loaded."
"Grab more. I'd rather be over prepared than not."
"Okay, what the hell is going on?' Liz watched them load more clips into the front pockets on their jackets. "And what's with all the firepower?"
"We're aiding Ressler and Navabi in their little operation tonight, apprehending their newest Blacklist member." Red bent, fastening a .45 to his outside thigh.
"It still doesn't explain all the..." She indicated the men and the desk littered with weaponry. "You've never gotten this involved."
"I've grown fond of Navabi and Ressler, and wish to help if possible."
"Uh huh, who is he?" she demanded, her arms folded across her chest, her expression no-nonsense. "What does he do?"
Red looked at Dembe, motioning that he could go, lest he be caught in the crossfire.
"Ah, no you don't. Get back in here Dembe." The man hesitated mid-step, turning around slowly. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
Dembe looked at Red, then the woman, obviously lost.
"I know you both look hot just the way you are," she lifted knowledgeable brows, "but if I were you, I would put a bullet proof vest over that cool exterior."
Red hid his grin, handing the quiet man the required vest. Dembe removed his jacket, slipping it on over his black t-shirt. Red helped adjust the torso and shoulder straps to a comfortable tightness before tapping the man on the neck, letting him know the job was finished.
Dembe slipped his jacket back on, buttoning it back to his desired height. "I'll go load the car." Grabbing a few bags, he walked out.
"Red, don't think I've forgotten what I asked." she tapped her foot impatiently. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Contrary to popular belief, I used to do this on a regular basis." she was informed. "And a hell of a sight more involved than what's happening tonight." the man sat in the chair, pushing his pant leg out of the way, yanking the laces on his boots, tying them tight.
He stood, letting the long pant legs fall over the boot, glancing around, checking the room to see if anything had been forgotten.
"If you don't tell me, I'll just call Aram. He'll spill everything." she came up beside him, looking up to his full height.
Red hesitated visibly, biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes trained steadily on the upturned face. "...Patrick O'Brian, an arms dealer with a very bad Irish temper, made even more so, when threatened with arrest."
"How is this our case? The FBI?" she questioned. "An arms dealer? How did you even get involved in this?"
"This one is personal." he nodded, his eyes staring off into the distance.
She digested that bit of information. "Personal?"
Could this in any way, have to do with her, she wondered.
"He shot Francis a few months back." Red shifted his eyes back to his inquisitor. "That is something I simply do not abide."
The woman opened her mouth to question yet again, but Red waved it aside, continuing.
"Samar thought Donald and Moore weren't taking me seriously enough when I was explaining how dangerous O'Brian is, how well armed. She asked if I was going to be there." He drew in a cleansing breath. "I took it to mean, she would appreciate the support."
"Is he that dangerous?" Liz asked quietly, her head dipping slightly as she contemplated the implications.
"Yes." He dipped his head, catching her eyes once again. "I can't let her go into this alone. She needs someone she can trust." He took off his button down flack shirt, leaving him in a similar black tee, one which matched Dembe's. "The tip came from me... I'm responsible."
"Why didn't I know about any of this, you said that you'd let me help." She turned around, pulling his vest, unable to pick up the heavy weight with one arm. Red came over, lifting it easily, shrugging into the confines.
"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd worry, like you are right now." Even though he could adjust the vest himself with his eyes closed, he stooped so she could attach his straps, giving her a feeling of control.
"Just... be careful." She pulled the flap, tightening it. "And the minute you're done, you'll call me?" She asked, rubbing his shoulder to secure the Velcro to her satisfaction. Her hand remained for several seconds on the warmth of his body.
The simple gesture somehow reassured her, that at least for the moment, he was safe and unharmed.
"Everything is going to be fine, Lizzy. We'll get your team home safe and sound." He put on his shirt and started to unroll his sleeve when Liz stopped him, straightening it herself before buttoning the cuff.
She rolled down his other sleeve, patting his arm when she finished.
His eyes softened, enjoying these little touches of intimacy that she had been bestowing on him lately such as holding his hand, a hug and now this, touching him without cause.
Touching him to feel a connection with him.
"It's not just them I'm worried about, and you know it."
Red smiled warmly, tracing the necklace he gave her with his finger, then grinned. "You think I look hot?" he deflected.
Her eyes filled with worry, saying more than any words could.
Red cupped her face with his large palm, smoothing her cheekbone with his thumb, "It'll be fine."
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead lingeringly. He nuzzled her once, then turned, walking from the room.
The man's actions frightened her. He'd never done that before. He'd hugged her, held her hand, even kissed her temple.
But kissed her forehead... nuzzled her. Lingered like he had.
Why did he... she felt a overwhelming dread filter into her soul.
He didn't think he'd be coming back.
She hobbled down the long hall, hearing the man's low voice. "Watch her." Red stated as he passed a solemn looking Silas.
"Red..." She called breathlessly, balancing herself on a nearby table.
"Sweetheart, did they take your cart again?" he sent a scathing look to Silas who shook his head negatively, his expression annoyed.
Nodding to the two men who had fallen into step beside him, they grabbed the rest of the gear and headed out, closing the door behind them.
The man stepped, closing the gap between them, "What's wrong?"
"Don't go." she practically pleaded. "You're too tired. You won't be alert." she feared. "You're going to get hurt."
"Trust me, I'll be more than alert when this begins." he was certain. "You know Samar has a better chance with me there. Ressler has his head up his ass again."
He purposely avoided remarking on the rest of what she'd said, since there was a good possibility that someone would get injured.
It made her angry that she couldn't argue with him, especially since he was right. If he was this adamant about going, she knew, aside from Samar, no one was really taking Red's warning seriously and the whole team would be in danger if Red wasn't there.
Even still, someone was going to get hurt, somehow. She felt it.
She took a couple of hobbling steps closer, then wrapped her arms around him, the crutch dropping forgotten to the floor as she hugged him tightly. "Please be careful."
The moment lengthened, the woman loving the feel of his arms around her.
He squeezed her back, running his hand through her hair as he cupped her head.
No words passed between them.
She knew... he couldn't promise anything. He wouldn't give false hope. He wouldn't lie to her.
She finally relaxed her hold, stepping back. She hugged herself tightly, her entire system attuned to the man's presence.
She watched him walk away.
Red hesitated at the exit, turning, staring at her silently. Their eyes met and held, Liz's heart turning over in her chest.
He closed the door behind him.
"Come on..." Liz growled into the phone. "Pick up." One more ring and she finally heard the line click. "Samar!"
"Liz?"
"Is Red with you?"
"No, I'm behind him, we're–"
"I know where you're going. I want you to keep me on the line."
"Gonna be a little busy in a minute." the woman snapped her pique.
"If I can't be there, I can at least hear what's going on." Liz pleaded.
The silence was uncomfortable for both parties.
"You'll have your vest on?"
"Of course, I will." Samar answered impatiently.
"Just put the phone in the vest. Please, Samar."
Samar sighed, "Fine. But if it gets in my way, I'm tossing it."
"Thank you. I just... I can't sit around here and not know what's going on."
"We're pulling up." Liz was advised.
"Samar, good luck." she added hastily, as an after thought. "Don't tell Red."
She heard the dinging of Samar's door as it opened, then the sound of the phone as it slid against stiff cloth.
And so it began...
"Samar..." Liz heard Red's deep voice greeting the other woman, getting right down to business. "How many mags do you have?"
"Three." there was puzzlement in the musical voice.
"Dembe..." Red's own voice held his concern. Liz could hear the exchange of metal.
"You really think I'll need all these?" Samar's tone was tinged with surprise.
"I think you'll need more." Red assured glumly.
Liz heard Velcro being pulled, probably on Samar's vest as she put the magazines Dembe had given her inside.
The phone was suddenly muffled and Liz knew it had been dropped inside a convenient pocket.
"We're carrying more ammo." it was advised. "I want you to stay behind us and cover our backs." Red directed.
"Should I remind you, that I'm the one that's FBI, here." Liz could hear the smile in Samar's reply.
"I don't care what acronym you attach to your name, as long as it isn't DOA."
Samar sighed, "Look, I really should go first." she practically insisted, feeling rather foolish.
"No, you listen to me." Red corrected sternly. "Considering there's a very good chance we won't walk away from this, you more than anyone else here, deserve a chance of surviving."
"Why would say that?" the woman was both flattered and insulted. "I am no different than any man here."
Red's eyes raked the woman's body. "You aren't a man." Reddington was not being sexist, just... Reddington.
"You're serious..." Samar was flabbergasted.
"Very serious." he indicated with his expression. "You stay behind us, Samar."
They both fell silent, making Liz wonder what the hell was going on.
"We should get wired." Samar popped the trunk on her car, then Liz heard her rattling around, obviously pulling out the radios and ear pieces.
There was a moments silence, as they adjusted their equipment.
A sharp squeal came through the speaker on Liz end, hurting her ears. She cringed, holding the phone away hastily.
"What the hell!" Red bitched.
"Just a minor interference." Samar covered quickly. "It's Ress." the woman calmed her two companions at the arrival of a black SUV.
"What are you doing here?" Liz heard Ressler as he joined them.
"Now, what the hell do you think I'm doing here." Red snapped impertinently.
"This is a FBI sanctioned–"
"Save the spiel, Ressler." Red disdained. "You're going to need all the help you can get."
"Yeah, whatever. You just stay behind everyone." Ressler instructed.
Liz vaguely heard Samar mumble something, "You stay with us, do you understand me." She heard Red say in response to whatever she had remarked. "Dembe, get her another vest."
"What's wrong with what I have."
"They have armor piercing bullets, that's what's wrong with it." Red snapped. "Ressler, I hate to ask, but do you have an extra vest?"
"Reddington..."
"Damn it! Shut up and listen to me for once!" Red was at the end of his tolerance, his tone saying as much. "Tell the others if they have extra vests, to put them on."
Liz strained to hear what was going on, "Team leader authorizes to wear extra vests if available." She heard the team answering the call, then Dembe.
"Agent Navabi." Dembe's smooth voice was at its usual calm pitch.
"No, leave that one on, wear this one over that." Red directed.
Liz listened to the far off sounds of movement and Velcro being pulled apart and reattached.
"Can you move freely?" Red asked the female Agent.
"It's a little heavy, but I'll manage." Samar seemed capable. "What about you? Do you have an extra one on?"
"We're fine."
"That didn't exactly answer my question." Samar pointed out.
"Our vests are different than yours."
Liz's brow furrowed. She could only hope he wasn't bullshitting Samar. Surely not. He wouldn't want Dembe to be caught without adequate protection. But that didn't mean that Red took the same precautions.
"Don't even think about it, Ressler." Red advised curtly.
"What?"
"You won't get two words out of that thing before they'll start shooting."
"I have to alert them that we're here."
Ressler was a stickler for rules if nothing else. In Liz's opinion the result often was contradictory to good results.
"Do you want to get yourself killed, because I can just put a bullet in you right now." Red suggested happily.
"Reddington, I have to alert our presence and tell them to come out, peacefully."
"Well, that's not what's going to happen if you use that damn bullhorn."
"Then what do you suggest I do."
"I suggest you surround the building and start picking them off before they have an opportunity to do the same to you." Reddington all too easily answered the question.
"And that is why you're the felon and we're the law."
"That's why I might survive and you won't." Red corrected.
"Ressler, maybe we should listen to him." Samar was always the voice of reason.
"I can't believe you said that Navabi."
"I don't mean we have to shoot up the place. I meant, maybe we should smoke the place out. Handicap them before–"
"We can handle this our own way." Ressler's voice was adamant.
"Fucking 'Cowboy'." Red murmured his derision.
"What did you say?" Liz could tell Ress was offended.
"You heard me, you little idiot." Red was not about to back down. "You're going to get these men killed out of some damn moral code, which none of those men inside have." he pointed to the target building. "You know what. Do what ever you want...just stay out of my way."
"Come on, Navabi." Ressler grumbled.
"She stays with us." Reddington held the woman back forcibly.
"I'm team lea–"
"She stays with us." Red all but growled.
"Navabi?"
"Get in position, Ressler." Samar eased the situation in her own manner, her eyes softening for her partner.
Liz heard Ressler start organizing the teams to surround the building before he faded out, apparently having walked away.
"Damn imbecile!"
Liz could feel Red's frustration and anger through the phone line, he wasn't even here and she could feel him sucking the energy from the room.
"In position." Ressler's tinny voice came through the radio.
"We should go." Samar said. The phone moved again, sliding into the new vest.
Liz listened to the soft sounds of them moving through the terrain. It felt like an eternity, but in reality, by her watch... it was only three minutes.
A three minutes that felt like a lifetime.
Then she heard the unmistakable sound of Ressler's voice as it echoed loudly from the bullhorn.
"This is the FBI–"
And just as Red predicted, all hell broke loose.
The sound of muffled gunfire filled the night. Liz could make out the unmistakable reverb of M16's being fired in continuous volleys. Red and Dembe returned fire immediately, she recognized the sound of the older man's Browning Hi-Power .40 as it reverberated loudly out of the speaker.
The FBI's weapon of choice answered the challenge issued. Confusion and chaos reigned, all transmitted through the chatter coming over Samar's radio.
Liz heard the sharp intake of breath from the woman.
"I told that little bastard." Red cursed. "Ressler's down." he remarked pleasantly.
Liz clutched the pillow, holding her breath, the voices of the tactical team talking over one another grew louder as the already continuous shooting, grew more intense.
"Save your ammo." Red had to be speaking to Samar.
"Is he...?" the former Mossad agent's breathy voice allowed her concern.
"Unsure." Red replied. "Need cover fire. Ressler is down."
Liz was surprised Red seemed to be asking the team for assistance.
"Elizabeth?" Silas entered unexpectedly through the open door. "What the–"
"Shh!" She waved the man silent, turning up the volume on her phone.
She startled at the sound of an explosion which rocked the background, muffling the sound of the weapons fire for a moment.
"Oh my God..." her voice gasped.
It sounded like a fucking war zone. Not Washington DC.
Silas walked over, reaching for her phone. "You shouldn't be–"
"No..." She held the phone out of his reach, her eyes pleading with him. "Please..."
Silas crossed his arms, frowning hard at her, but at length... he pulled a chair over to sit beside her, knowing a lost cause when he saw one.
"Idiots!" Red swore under his breath. "Ressler!" he barked into the comm-link. "Donald!" he tried again. "Fucking useless! He's either not hearing me or he's not listening, again. Come on."
Liz lost the sound of what was happening because of all
All the intense snapping, cracking and popping of the fight, the spent casings tinkling to the ground, the constant barrage of gunfire shielded Red and Dembe's movements.
The woman was lost for a goodly while. She looked desperately to her right for some sort of support, but Silas sat calmly, unaffected by what was going on around him.
"They're checking the roof lines." Silas muttered.
"Raymond, roof...corner left." Dembe verified the large guard's assumption.
"Got him." She heard Red's deep, calm reply, before a shot rang out.
"Stay where you are, Samar." he directed. "Can you tell...is he breathing?" Red asked of someone.
"Yes." Samar replied. "Just a leg wound."
"Give me his weapon." Red demanded of the woman. "Whoo..." he whistled.
Silas grinned retroactively.
Liz's brow furled, wondering what had happened. It suddenly dawned on her, however... that high pitched whistling sound she'd heard before...when Carver fired at them. It had rushed past Red in quick succession, sharp bursts, as bullets cut through the air.
Which meant, he, Samar and Dembe were right in the thick of it all.
The woman clenched her fists, her entire body tense and on alert. Somewhere in the mix she had lost Red's voice.
"Hey, dumb ass!" she was never so glad to hear the familiar sarcasm barked. "Ressl... umph..." a dull thud of muffled recoil halted the man's remarks briefly... the a terse, "You little son of a bitch!"
Silas sat straight up in his chair, his body tensing as well.
"Raymond?" Dembe's voice was laced with concern.
"Ressler, you stupid fuck!" Reddington's ire was more than apparent. "If you get out of this alive... I'm going to kill your ass!" it sounded like a promise to Silas, who sat back slightly, but was still on edge, clearly.
"We fire, you run, you fucking idiot!" Red had no problem clarifying the directions in this instance.
"Ready!" Ress yelled in reply, his tone tight with determination.
"Now."
She jerked visibly hearing the loud rapid report of what appeared to be an M4, an assault rifle the Swat used.
"They're wasting ammo." Silas commented quietly, then glanced over at her. "Red likes that weapon. And don't worry, he's good with it."
Red was firing that weapon?
"Dembe?" Red's voice had never once lost the calm exterior he exuded. Well except for when he was angry with Ressler.
"Covering." the man replied. The sound of a shotgun blasted the woman's ear drums.
"Where the hell did you pull that from!" Samar yelled out over the din.
"Dammit!" Red's tone was finally tense. "He's down."
"I need to be there." Silas stated succinctly.
"We need to get closer." Liz heard Red fire the large tactical weapon again. "I'll get him, you lay down cover fire."
Silas sat up in his chair, his leg bouncing nervously. Liz noted the man's fingers were white where he clutched the thickness of his thigh.
"I'll go." Samar yelled out over the sound of Dembe racking the shotgun again.
"Stay here!" Red commanded. "Give us a fucking distraction, dammit!" the man growled his impatience. "Your stupid ass team leader is down!"
Silas shifted his eyes, silently checking on the woman's condition.
"Samar!" Red lashed out. "Get the fuck back here!"
Liz tried to squelch the panic rising in her chest. The gunfire grew louder and more fierce, sounding like it was closing in on them.
Silas reached over laying a calming hand on her tightly clenched fists. The blue eyes darted to the reassuring grey ones.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Red disdained. "Shit!"
There was a rapid succession of Dembe firing the shotgun and the metallic ping of bullets hitting all around them.
"Keep your head down, dammit!" Red barked at some unseen individual.
Liz heard Samar squeak, then a male grunt followed by an even louder exclamation, "Fuck!"
"Reddington?" Samar's voice was muffled, but clearly alive. "Red!"
"Fuck..." the man drawled softly.
Liz tensed, then heard him firing his weapon. His voice got louder, then she heard the slide as he dropped his clip, then the click as he loaded a new one.
"Is he breathing." Red stifled a groan.
"Are you–" Samar questioned.
"Yeah..." he sighed begrudgingly.
Liz strained to hear what Samar was saying, but Red fired again. "Lizzy's–" he rumbled deeply.
Elizabeth gripped the phone, drawing it closer, "Red!" she called out to the man, "I'm her–"
"Shit!" Red yelled. "Get down!" A loud explosion filtered glaringly through the phone before breaking off as the line disconnected, leaving only the sound of silence in the room.
Loud, stifling, silence.
"Red! Samar!" Liz yelled into the phone. "Red!" her nerve endings were alive and thrumming. She instinctively turned to her one avenue of hope. "Silas..." She looked at him, panicked. "We need to go there." She pleaded.
"We can't." he stated bleakly.
"I can't just sit here." She begged. "Please!"
"I want to go there as much as y–" he held his temper in check.
"Then let's go!"
"I don't know where they are. He wouldn't tell me."
"Silas..."
"I don't know where they are." he repeated stonily.
An hour later and there had been nothing but radio silence. Elizabeth sat stiffly erect, not having moved an inch since last she heard from Red.
Turning the phone over in her hand, she stared at the useless screen. She had never felt so helpless in her life. And that included the night of Carver's attack.
She couldn't call them in case they were in the middle of something. Couldn't even call Aram should he be delivering them Intel.
It was a terrible position to be in. It was the worst position in the entire Universe in which to 'be'.
Her team mates and friends in danger and her unable to offer any sort of support what-so-ever.
Growling with the aggravation she felt, she threw the phone. The impact, lessened by the pillow it hit, did little to ease her frustration.
She stared at the dark plastic, frowning, before snatching it up again, gripping it to her chest protectively. This was her only life-line to Red Reddington.
Steadying herself against the bed, she hobbled a pacing rhythm, willing the phone to ring.
"Please, let them be okay." she whispered.
She stopped her fruitless path, leaning into the bed. She dropped her forehead into the palm of her hand, rubbing the mounting tension that grew with each passing second. So many silent prayers had been uttered, so many unanswered.
"Dammit Red!" she hissed softly. "Where are you?" her shoulders slumped as the depression descended.
"Lizzy..." the man's deep voice washed over her like a soothing balm, and for a moment, she thought she surely must be hallucinating.
Liz raised her head quickly, finding the man standing in the doorway, filthy, sweaty and...
She blinked at the sudden wash of wetness in her eyes, a flood of relief releasing itself in a shuddering breath as she pushed off the bed, hobbling for the man.
Red caught the door with his fingers, slamming it closed as he quickly walked towards her.
"Why didn't you call?" She held back tears of relief and joy, before wrapping her arms around his neck. "You promised." she whispered sacredly.
"Ressler's a damn idiot." Red grumbled irritably, tossing his broken phone to the table top beside them.
He sounded so pissed. So agitated. So vital. So alive.
She gripped him around his neck, hugging him harder. Happy that he was all those things and not... she didn't even want to think it.
"If someone doesn't tell me what the hell is going on..." She felt herself about to snap, not above voicing the fact to any and all.
"I plan to," he dropped his nose further into her neckline, breathing in her delicate scent, "now be quiet for a minute." His voice was slightly muffled, the warm breath fanning her skin.
He just needed a minute, to gather his thoughts. To feel her.
Red nestled his nose into the woman's neck, his lips brushing her silky flesh. He relaxed into her soft warm curves, so very relieved to be home and with her again.
Tightening his arms around her back, Red lifted her feet off the floor slightly before walking the short distance to the bed. Her toes caught the top of his boots, at one point, as she rested her weight on the gritty leather.
The man smiled, his lips momentarily caressing the shell of her ear.
Tonight had been... interesting. A fucking joke, truth told.
This was the first moment of sanity he had felt all night. He reluctantly gave her the opportunity needed to break the embrace, hoping like hell she would not take it. But fortunately, Liz seemed to need the closeness as much as he did.
She held tightly to his form, her soft breath fanning his neckline. Elizabeth breathed in the subtle masculine scent of cigars and the mellow spice of cologne, relaxing further against his solid mass. She nuzzled her nose into his jacket, cool from the crisp night, finding the man's warmth hidden beneath, ever so comforting.
He swayed with her a minute before she finally relaxed, loosening her hold enough that he could set her down fully. She stepped down from her perch on the boots, her eyes raking the tension in his face anxiously.
When he stepped back, once from her influence, the memories of the evening resurfaced, leaving the man fuming...an acid taste in his mouth.
"Before you start spouting off a hundred questions, let me finish talking." He put his hands on his hips, taking a few short steps, before turning around, just short of pacing.
Liz did not like his curt tone. He had never spoken to her in such a manner.
"I'm sorry." He apologized instantly, realizing he was taking his mood out on the wrong person. "I'm just damned... pissed."
"I noticed." She clamped her mouth shut when the curt glance cut her way. Within seconds, the mood seemed to pass however and the softer gaze rested on her.
Replaying the evening, in detail, Red broke down every event... just as she heard it play out over the phone.
As Red neared the end of the byplay of events, Liz's mind swirled chaotically as she fully comprehended the words.
"Red, are you telling me you have been standing there, this whole time, knowing you've been shot... twice?" she was aghast.
"Don't panic." He pulled off his jacket, revealing his left arm slick with blood.
"Dembe!" Liz yelled out, her voice carrying through the closed door.
A few seconds later Dembe opened the door, carrying the first aid bag, heading directly for Red.
"Why aren't you sitting?" She pushed at Reddington. "Make him sit." She gestured at Dembe.
All the annoyance Red had felt in the last two hours started to fade, melting away to nothing as he watched the woman fidget and bully him. Liz crawled around on her knees, following him, pushing him towards a bench at the end of the bed.
"Did I just say not to panic?" Red looked at Dembe, "She's doing exactly what I told her not to do."
Dembe's mouth lifted at the corner, pointing to the bench indicating Red should take a seat. But the man shook his head.
"I don't want to get blood on it." it was stated. "That's a twelve hundred dollar bench."
"Who the fuck cares about the bench!" Liz had mentally swept the man's frame but the black material of his garments hindered her search. "Where else were you hit?"
"Did you just say fuck?" Red held his laughter.
Liz pulled at his shirt, bringing him back towards her after having just pushed him away.
She examined every part of the man available, all areas clear except for one enormous gash running across his arm. Running her hands quickly over his stomach, she grazed his hips to the top of his thigh.
The fabric was tacky with the man's own blood.
"Take off your pants, Red."
"Well I guess she did say fuck." he chuckled at his own wit, allowing her every whim. His innate sense of humor came to the fore as he watched her hopelessly fumbling with his belt buckle.
"I'll fuck you!" she blasted with a scathing look, but then Dembe's muffled laugh, she realized with horror what she had just said.
"But darling... now?" Red smiled tenderly, not stopping her actions, finding them oddly endearing, "Dembe is in the room."
"Like that would matter," Dembe voiced sotto voce.
"Shut up," She muttered while pulling the buckle open.
"Sorry," Dembe apologized.
Liz looked at him weirdly for she had not heard his quiet statement. Red's grin widened... because he had.
"They're only flesh wounds, Lizzy." He placed a hand over her shaking ones, not to stop her, but to reassure her. "Nothing to worry about. Really. Calm down."
"The arm can wait until you're out of the shower." Dembe had made that decision, dropping the short sleeve back over the wound.
"I think I'm going to need a towel, please." Red glanced over at the large man.
Dembe returned with a dark towel, sitting it on the bench.
As Red sat, he sensed Elizabeth crawling closer, seating herself just behind him on the bed, hovering.
How long had it been since someone had given a damn about his welfare, besides Dembe? His wife, maybe? Certainly long enough he couldn't remember exactly. It warmed him to be thought of again as a human being.
He felt bad that she was so concerned, but in time she would see it was nothing and he was fine. He needed to enjoy this moment in time, no matter how selfish.
"Jesus, Red," Liz reached forward, tracing the hole in his vest, her probing releasing a stray spent bullet. The copper slug fell unceremoniously to the floor. "You took one in the back too."
"Must have been when I blocked Samar." he imagined. "It's fine, Lizzy. I didn't even feel it... much." He sing-songed his head, pulling the velcro at his shoulder while she undid the sides on his vest.
Dembe took the heavy weight. Red pulled at his laces, removing his boots, then grimaced when he felt the cool air hit his wet sock. Pulling the sock off, his hand and foot came away streaked with blood... Not good.
The woman noticed immediately, gripping the neck of his shirt, balling it in her fist.
"You're choking me, sweetheart..." He soothed, patting her fist comfortingly.
The woman gasped, releasing his clothes instantly. "I'm so sorry!"
"No worries, but I want to let you know..." He wiped off his foot before popping the buttons on his black pants, gingerly pulling them down his legs, "I actually tried that once in Bangladesh."
Dembe rolled his eyes expressively, "It was not Bangladesh..." he exasperated.
Red grinned over at him. "It all begins to blur... the lack of oxygen, you know."
The woman's fist returned post haste to the man's shirt collar, this time practically strangling him. Red coughed once, easing her fingers off the material.
"A flesh wound my ass!" Liz gasped, seeing the through and through on his outer thigh. "Ressler did that?"
"The little bastard." Red poked at the wound, pushing a fresh flow of blood from the openings, catching it on the towel. "If he thinks shooting me is going to stop the 'Donald is a Dumbass' jokes, he is sorely mistaken."
He walked into the bathroom holding the towel in place, followed closely by Elizabeth who was supported by Dembe. The large man placed his ward on the bathroom seat.
Red shrugged off their intrusion, stepping into the shower. He removed his t-shirt and boxers, then threw them out onto the floor. Stepping under the hot stream, he hissed when it hit his leg.
"Why didn't the medics take care of that on scene?" Liz asked over the sound of the shower.
"Because he did not tell anyone." Dembe said disapprovingly. "I only found out about it when we were several blocks away." He grabbed a couple of towels, standing outside the stall.
"It's not like I haven't been shot before." Red pressed heavily into the wound, producing a fresh flow. "And I'm positive it won't be the last." He rubbed the soap around his body, happy to get the grit of the evening off.
Shutting the water down, he stilled. How the hell was he going to get out of here tactfully? She was sitting just out there and now wasn't the time to discuss the past... he wasn't ready to discuss anything besides tonight's events.
Wiping the water from his eyes, he was gratefully when Dembe's arm enter the stall, holding fresh towels.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank God for Dembe.
Red grabbed one, sloughing the water, then wrapped the other towel around his shoulders. Coming to the edge of the shower stall, he saw Dembe blocking Liz's view, allowing him a straight shot to the closet.
He grabbed some clothes slipping them on hastily, then left the sanctuary.
Dembe pointed to the side of the tub, indicating he should sit there. "Put your leg in." He shook the disinfectant, waiting for Red to get in position.
Liz came up behind them, placing her hands on Red's shoulders, craning over his head to see what was happening.
"Are you ready." Dembe popped the cap on the bottle, tipping it towards him.
"I shiver with antici..." He turned his leg for better access, bracing himself. "...pation."
Dembe pursed his lips slightly, "Not bad." critiquing Red's performance before pouring the burnt orange disinfectant directly on and around the hole without warning.
"Fuck..." Red tensed, groaning deeply in his chest before dropping his head. He breathed through the shock, finally deflating when the pain ebbed.
It didn't hurt that little hands were rubbing his neck comfortingly.
"He performed in Rocky Horror once at Summer Stock." Dembe explained, ignoring Red's reaction all together. "He did Magenta... of course."
Red nodded agreeably. "And I played the part of Riff Raff."
"Are you okay?" Liz ran her hand over his head, settling her palm on his neck, her mood much improved. She knew the 'performance' they gave was for her benefit.
He exhaled, then nodded that he was. "I'm going to beat the hell out of Ressler."
Dembe came back to his side, supplies ready. Working quickly, he had the leg and arm fixed and bandaged in no time.
"Just like the Chinoso Incident." Red remembered fondly. "We only had the simplest of supplies, but somehow he got me patched up and out the door before the shit really hit the fan." He gave the man a 'thumbs up'. "Good work, Dembe."
"What is it with you guys and incidents? Does anything ever turn out to be good?" Liz's tone was more shrill than she could account for.
"I don't believe we've ever really had anything go completely South on us. It's just that none of them have ever unfolded according to the original plan. There for, becoming the incident." he 'air quoted' with his finger. "Thank you, Dembe. Why don't you go get some rest now."
"If you need me..." The dark man stated before wishing them a good night.
Red finished wiping off his leg and arm, then got off the tub before moving on to his nightly ritual as though nothing untoward had happened, his little shadow watching him the whole time.
"Are you all right?" He finally asked the silent woman.
"Not really, no." She said, suddenly realizing as much.
"What's wrong?"
They moved out of the room unto the bed, slowly but surely.
"I felt useless. I didn't know what was going on. If anything was wrong, I couldn't do a damn thing to help." She replied in one breath.
"Everything turned out fine." he reached, flipping the light off.
"I don't know if you noticed or not, but you have a hole in your thigh." She griped, turning out her own light.
"But, I'm still breathing, as is the rest of your team, which makes it a good night." He listened to her deep breathing, almost wishing he had left his light on to read her face.
She was either pissed or understood and was reconciling herself to the fact that even if he had a couple of wounds, the night had turned out okay in the end.
"I was listening." Liz blurted.
"Excuse me?"
"I called Samar before she met you, I told her to keep the line open." she confessed. "I could hear what was happening."
"Elizabeth.."
"Don't you scold me." She warned.
"I wasn't going to scold you."
"You only call me Elizabeth when you want my attention, you're annoyed or wanting to make a point."
"I do not." He smiled slightly, now glad it was dark in the room so she couldn't see it.
"Well... most of the time."
"I'm just worried for you. What if you had heard someone literally go down." he did not like to think about the psychological implications. "You couldn't help them, you couldn't do anything for them. It would have eaten away at you."
"I just couldn't sit here and not..." She sighed heavily. "Thank you... for helping them. Protecting Samar."
"Umhmm." He hummed his reply.
"The explosions?" she asked.
"Flash grenades." Red shrugged. "Though, if I'm right, O'Brian's men may have thrown a few pipe bombs into the mix."
She groaned quietly. Red turned his head to seek her out. He could only see her silhouette, but enough that he could tell she was covering her face with her hands.
"I heard you get shot." she stated her agony, reliving that moment in her mind. "I didn't connect it at the time, but I just replayed it and..."
"Lizzy..." he sighed, "let it go. We're all fine." He lay silently, his arm supporting his head. He felt her move, the warmth of her body infiltrating the t-shirt he had donned as she snuggled close, her arm laying gently upon his chest.
"You said my name." she whispered.
"Yes..." he remembered. "I said your name."
"I'm really glad you're okay." She mumbled in his ear, before dropping a lingering kiss on his cheek.
He pulled his arm out from behind his head, wrapping it around her. "So am I..."
Because if she was like this and he was all right, what would she have been like had he died.
A question he had not asked himself since he'd been married. But like with his wife, he now had this person, this woman, Lizzy... relying on him to be here, with her.
She didn't know and wouldn't know, how close he came to catching a bullet, where that question would have been relevant.
It had been damn near impossible to walk away from her, not just once, but twice.
He didn't know if he could deny her again, because he almost hadn't tonight.