Following Francis inside the darkened house, Red nodded his approval, seeing the renovations they had completed so far.
"It looks nice, Francis." Red praised the improvements. He was glad to see the house so changed, especially after the images which lingered still of the last time he was here.
Francis pointed the way, while Red and Dembe followed.
"East wall," Francis glanced about, getting his bearings. He started off but Red put a restraining arm out.
"East," the older man pointed the actual direction out as the younger had headed South.
The men stood before the wall, searching for any sign of a 'hidden room'.
Francis held up a staying hand, stepping, hitting the last panel at the end of the mantel.
The door opened, revealing a darkened interior.
Red pulled a flashlight from his pocket, scanning the space. The light danced across the eerie silence, revealing flashes and segments of fragmented images.
The entire room was covered in pictures... of Elizabeth Keen.
Red stepped into the area, his focus on the disturbing photos.
There was Elizabeth, getting coffee, on her morning run. There were several stills of the woman sitting with Red on a park bench.
"What is it? What did you find?" Francis stepped inside, his brows raising. "Whoa, what the..." The images rendered him speechless.
Red spun slowly, the beam of light revealing more recent photographs. More specifically, Liz at the Blacksite with Silas.
He saw none which would reveal her present location thankfully.
Red stepped aside, allowing Dembe to pass into the small space.
The large dark man began taking the photos down, keeping them in order as he neatly deposited them in an empty plumber's box.
Red glanced around the room, silently fuming. So this was how Tom knew Lizzy was staying with him.
When Red had come to speak with the team after Carver's attack, that little bastard had been hiding in this room, listening to every word said.
How long had he been there? Had he been hiding in here when Carver attacked Lizzy and done nothing to help her? Probably... the damn coward.
"What the hell is going on here?" Francis was lost.
"It's all right." Red allayed any further questions. "I think I know who did this."
"Well, would you like to clue me in?"
"Before she was with me, Elizabeth was married." Red yanked down a photo himself, keeping his infamous temper in check. "To an asshole, that doesn't seem to know when to let go."
"You mean the 'asshole' did this?" Francis gestured to room itself.
"He's the only one that comes to mind," Red's tongue played with the inside of his jaw, a nervous tick he had never mastered. "...he's been sending her letters."
"So now he's escalated to shrines?" Francis was trying to wrap his head around such a mentality.
"It would seem so..."
"How did he get in here without her, and more importantly you, knowing."
Red knew he had to tread carefully here. Francis didn't know who Lizzy was, really. Red had to keep the story simple. He would also have to update Lizzy on this... farce.
"She is notoriously bad about setting alarms." there was a brittleness to Red's tone. "And I was out of town so fucking much..."
How long had Tom been in this house, was the question of the day. Had he stood over Lizzy while she slept, watching her, the creepy bastard.
"Hey, she's okay. She's with you now." Francis placated. "Are you going to tell her?"
"Of course I'm going to tell her."
"I think it'll scare her." Francis warned.
She was already scared. A psychopathic serial killer had targeted her, not to mention, the damn letters.
"But that is what Silas is for, right?" the young man remembered. "So she doesn't have to be."
"Silas is the best there is, but even he isn't invincible." Red had seen a lot of good men in his day taken out by unexpected circumstances. He himself, was a victim of such incidents.
"There's no need to panic her, yet." Francis held up both hands to signify he had he problem in hand, so to speak. "When you aren't there, I can be."
"She doesn't panic so easily." Red stated. "She's been taking care of herself a long time."
Red patted the man's shoulder all the same, pleased to have such a friend for Elizabeth.
After the makeshift shrine had been dismantled, they found other miscellanea in the shelves. Weapons, money, fake ID's.
A room by room search netted yet another hiding spot but it was the one Red already knew about.
"What the hell? Is this guy a fucking mole?" Francis shook his head negatively.
"More like a rat." Red arose, dusting his hands. He suddenly felt dirty and it had nothing to do with the drywall dust.
"Well, one bright point, the work will be done in a couple days." Francis said, sitting his box of paraphernalia in the back of the SUV.
Red frowned, "So?"
"So... the Torello brothers are coming in for a visit." Francis grinned. "I thought I'd let them stay here."
The Torello brothers were 'shoot first, hide the evidence', type of guys.
Red thought for a minute, "Why are they coming?"
"They have some business with the Engraver. I offered the place for their use." the information was supplied. "Is it important, because if so... I could get them here tonight, within the hour actually."
"Get them here." Red advised. "Let's get out of sight, in case the asshole shows up."
The three men sat quietly in the car, parked inconspicuously among the rows of many similar vehicles lining the street outside the brownstone buildings.
Francis continually shifted his eyes to a very silent companion. It had been about forty minutes since they had vacated the newly renovated home.
Dembe sat, meticulously scanning the darkened spaces of the neatly kept street. Francis beat out any number of songs on his thigh from time to time. In reality, the young man was trying to get some kind... any kind of response from Red.
He knew, the more contained Red Reddington became the more dangerous the man was.
Not able to stand the silence any longer, another song came to mind, one that would annoy anyone. Francis not only started the rhythm on his thigh, but began singing along with "Copacabana".
Red's hand moved with lightening speed as he cocked his weapon, placing the tip of the barrel against Francis' thigh which halted both the singing and any further action from the young man.
"Worried?" Francis smiled finally, relieved to have received a reply.
"That's a damn understatement." Red replaced his weapon in its holster, returning his interest to the outside world.
"I should have killed him a long time ago. I should have stepped in and..." the bitterness laced the barely contained fury. "She has the worst taste in men," Red laughed shortly, gesturing to himself, "obviously."
Francis was slightly confused over the statement. "Red, I think you're the best thing that ever happened to her." He studied the older man for a long beat. "You're worried he's escalating... and there's something you're not telling me."
"He hurt Lizzy." Red gripped his phone, rubbing his thumb over the buttons. "If I get my hands on him, I'll fucking kill him."
Francis shriveled under the glare and it wasn't even directed at him. "Hurt her how?" his jaw tensed at the news.
"He beat the hell out of her." Red closed his eyes to the images the statement conjured. "I came in an hour too late. The house was tossed, looking like a damned War Zone."
Red fell silent for so long, Francis thought he would not continue the sordid tale.
"She was sitting on the couch." Red would never forget, the image burned in his brain. She seemed so broken, so vulnerable, so alone. "Just sitting..."
Francis watched the man's face carefully. At that moment, Red Reddington seemed broken and vulnerable and...alone as well.
"If I meet the man, I'll take great pleasure in killing him myself." Francis did not like to see his friend in such a state, offering the only kind of support he knew would be appreciated. "What's this prick's name?"
"Tom Keen," the icy cold eyes shifted, meeting Francis' waiting ones. "You find him, you let me know."
"You didn't mention what condition he should be in." Francis suddenly needed to inflict a little injury and mayhem.
Red studied the back of Dembe's noble head. "Just alive," he muttered. "Or a close facsimile there of."
Both men fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.
Dembe stiffened, his eyes on the side mirror. He motioned with his head.
Francis was suddenly all smiles, twisting about, noting the approaching car coming down the street as it shut down its lights.
Red watched as the car smoothly slid into a parking space several vehicles behind them, his hand tightening on his own weapon as the car doors swung open.
Three very large men unfolded themselves from the other vehicle.
"It's just the Torello's." Francis said.
All participants met up, gathering behind the relative security of the SUV. Red subconsciously checked his surroundings as old acquaintances were renewed.
Having explained the situation, Red was not surprised when the new arrivals offered their services gladly, especially salivating at the idea of taking out a wife beater.
Dembe shared several of the photos found in the room, catching the Torello's up on all pertinent information.
"This your woman, Reddington?" The older of the brothers, a handsome Italian with impeccable style, jutted his chin towards the woman in the photographs.
Red's eyes lifted, sending a message that any male could read.
"She's pretty enough, I guess, if you like them skinny." Frank nodded approvingly. "Got a nice rack, and I just bet," the man brought the photo closer, purposely focusing on Liz's posterior knowing it would rankle his friend and comrade, " you bare that ass every chance you get."
The man chuckled lowly, reading Red's expression. He had worked hard for that stony stare. "Just paying the lady a compliment, Red."
"That's my department, so stay the hell out of it." Red advised quietly.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to her?" the man grinned, continuing his razzing.
"When hell freezes over." Red stated, drawing the lines in no uncertain terms.
"So you want us to make sure he can't ever add anything else to his... collage." Paulie, the middle brother soothed ruffled feathers. "Or you want we should just hold him for you?"
"I would like to speak with him, but if that isn't possible..." Red shrugged nonchalant shoulders.
Dembe interrupted the flow of the conversation, touching Red's arm. All the men turned watching as a large dark car rolled slowly down the street.
"Well, son of a bitch!" Red had recognized the vehicle even as Dembe, whose relaxed stance indicated as much.
"Isn't that..." Francis pointed animatedly at the approaching car.
"There better be a damned good explanation." Red fumed his annoyance knowing who was inside the SUV.
Francis nodded his agreement as Red stalked his way towards the car which stopped in its tracks as the man approached.
Reddington jerked the driver door open, his ire more than apparent. "What the hell are you doing here?" he grated the enquiry.
"The little snot was trying to sneak out." Silas bitched right back, his own mood sour. "Said if I didn't bring her, she'd just keep trying until she succeeded." he threw a lethal glare to the darkened back seat area.
"She about made it too... I stopped Nora at the front gate and guess who was in the backseat, hiding." his tone sharpened. "What the hell, Red."
Red stepped to the back of the car, opening the door bending to peer inside. His expression foreboding for any recipient on the receiving end.
"You've been gone so long," Liz made her way to the man, "I missed you." she reached her arms out in an effort to appease him with a kiss.
Red's anger softened at the sight of the purposely innocent face and the large blue eyes which searched his so genially.
"Who the hell are they?" Silas bitched, having tried to identify the darkened faces a few feet away. Then it dawned on him.
"Oh.." he recognized the bulk, if not the faces, "The Torello's." the man shoved his arm out the slit between the open door and windshield, flipping off the brothers, especially the elder.
Muted laughter met his efforts.
Red stepped back, spreading his hands wide, glancing up to a benevolent God. What else could go wrong?
A loud crack rang out in the still of the night, and Red felt a piercing pain rip through the outer part of his left thigh.
He grunted lowly, his legs giving out from under him as he went down into the middle of the empty street.
Silas was up and out of the car in an instant, headed for the man as he watched Red jerk hastily to his right in anticipation of the kill shot which was surely to follow.
And true enough, another shot sizzled the air. A dark stain blossomed over the light fabric of Red's jacket.
Silas threw his bulk over the man, hunching Red closely into the protective sphere he was creating. The man could hear rounds issuing from multiple weapons as he waited patiently for the inevitable.
He did not have long to wait.
A searing bolt of red hot lava perforated his flesh, drilling through the soft tissue of his shoulder, passing through completely as it sparked off the cement of the road directly in his line of vision. It missed Red's head by a fraction of an inch.
Liz quickly climbed over the seat, frantically searching in the glove box for the weapon she knew would be there, as two more shots followed.
Francis and Dembe were returning fire as two of the large men that had been with Red, started off at a dead run down the street... toward the unseen assailant's position.
Lights were flicking on in the houses down each side of the street but none were brave enough to venture anywhere near the windows.
Sliding the car into gear, Liz pulled over, blocking Red and Silas from any further attempts on their lives.
"Get in!" she yelled over the din of gunfire.
Silas was attempting to assist his friend into the back seat of the car.
Liz hid behind the shelter of the door frame, firing the large weapon over the roof of the SUV in rapid succession, in the general direction everyone else seemed fixated on. She winced with each volley because the jolt from the weapon jarred her injured wrist painfully with each shot.
Silas lifted her bodily, shoving her into the passenger seat, climbing in, jerking the car in reverse. He sped down the street backwards, taking a curve dangerously sharp as he exited the field of battle.
Liz climbed into the backseat, desperately searching Red's torso for injuries.
Dembe and Francis walked backwards in unison, continuing their cover fire. Both men jerked at the cutting sound of a bullet passing between them, followed by the sound of shattering glass from a nearby car window.
Frank Torello stood his ground, not bothering to seek shelter of any sort as he took aim on a second floor window. Flashes of muzzle fire had given away the idiot's location shortly after the second shot.
Silence fell over the brightly lit street just as quickly as it had begun, the gunfire halting. Torello grinned widely, knowing his brothers had done their job.
In the distance, police sirens signified their arrival shortly upon scene. Torello waved Francis and Dembe off as he slid into the seat of his car, heading to his brothers' location.
Dembe pulled a neatly executed u-turn, his foot heavy on the gas as he and Francis vacated the vicinity as well.
"Red got hit." There was an anxiousness to Francis' statement.
"He has been hit before." Dembe's calm demeanor served as an example to the younger man. "Silas will have put out a Code 77. We will know shortly the location."
Francis sat back, breathing easier but he knew the tenseness would not leave his body until he actually saw Red's condition for himself.
Liz's hands fluttered shakily over Red's blood splattered jacket, gently easing the material aside.
Silas tossed a wadded up sweatshirt from the front seat. Liz pressed the fabric hard against a gaping wound in Red's shoulder.
She moved closer, her jeans feeling a wetness against her thigh. She reached, feeling about, her fingers instantly covered in sticky warmth.
She ascertained the problem instantly, pressing her knee into the seeping hole in Red's thigh. She felt Red's fingers curl stoutly into her thigh, holding the pressure she exerted, his face twisted with the pain.
Silas was breaking every speed law known to man and the woman had no idea where they were headed but she did know, that Mr. Kaplan was on call and would handle what needed to be done.
Liz glanced down, finding blood seeping through the fabric of the sweatshirt at an alarming rate. She leaned harder into the wound, grimacing for Red.
Silas took a sharp corner, and momentarily, Liz lost pressure on the wounds but quickly enough, she had situated Red on his back and found the familiar points once again.
"Are you okay?" Red asked the woman, his eyes blurry, unfocused.
"I'm going to kill you." she whispered, half laughing, half crying.
"Silas?" he coughed spasmodically, trying to arise.
"I'm functional." the man hit the straightaway in front of him, the speedometer going into the red.
"You're gonna be fine." Liz assured. The man sweated profusely, his skin a chalky pale hue.
There was so much blood.
He reached, curling a hand around her head, pulling her down to his lips. She held the affection for a moment, before pulling back slightly offering him a soft reassuring smile.
Liz looked up, out the front window as they approached a building. Silas pulled inside an open overhead door. Liz was so happy to note Joe was there waiting and ready.
It meant everything was going to be fine. She had to believe that.
She breathed easier the deeper they drove into the darkened building, seeing more of their guards on site.
And finally, Mr. Kaplan... flanked by people in Surgical gear.
Silas slid to a stop, as the guards flung wide the doors. Red was extracted expediently.
"Ah, fuck..." the man hissed as he was lifted to a waiting gurney.
Liz kept pace with the rapidly moving cart, not once releasing Red's hand as he was wheeled into a plastic covered room. Unusual things were becoming the norm in Liz's world and she had a sneaky suspicion, she had better get used to it.
She winced under the bright lights of the room, unable to keep track of all the activity taking place around her, so much was happening all at once.
Red's expensive shirt was cut open, revealing the extent of his shoulder wound. Someone had hooked leads from a machine to the man in order to read his vitals.
The reassuring 'beep' from a heart monitor was something the woman fixated upon instantly.
She stood back, out of the way, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.
She noted Kate Kaplan standing on the opposite side of the gurney, the woman's expression giving her hope. There was no sign of strain or stress what-so-ever, simply a calm countenance displayed at all times.
Red was still conscious, his eyes searching aimlessly about. "Dembe..."
"I am here, Raymond."
It took a moment but the words finally outed, "Francis?"
"Oh, like they can get me... can I have your LP collection if you croak?"
"Stand in line." Red's lips twitched slightly for the black humor.
Francis grinned joyously, knowing Red Reddington was still there, kicking ass, as usual. "Okay, I guess I can wait."
Mr. Kaplan's expression hardened and she stepped around all the activity, finally coming face to face with the much taller individual which had caught her attention. The stern expression did not bode well for its recipient.
"Are you that stoic?" she questioned a silently waiting guard. "Do you think your heroics endear you to me?"
Liz glanced, only just now noticing that the entire front of Silas' gray cotton button down was covered in blood. She gasped her shock, all of which the guard ignored.
"No, Ma'am." Silas responded politely to Kate's enquiry, uncrossing his folded arms coming to military 'rest'.
Kaplan snapped her fingers with but one lethal departing glare and the man was instantly led away to another medical station for care.
Francis noted Liz's concern. "It's probably just a flesh wound." he teased, but even he glanced after the retreating man, his eyes allowing his own concern after a fashion.
"I need to see the back." the doctor working over Red, instructed his assistants. "The wound, hopefully, is a through and through."
Reddington instantly balked, pushing away any attempts to touch his person. "Kate!" he barked raspingly.
"Raymond, stop struggling." Kaplan advised stonily. "You're making the bleeding worse."
Red knew he would get no assistance in that arena. Turning his eyes to the one person who had never failed him.
"Dembe..." he batted away the attendant's attempts to secure him, for they were concerned for the amount of blood he was losing.
"Red, let them help you." Liz was confused and frightened for the man's inexplicable behavior.
The doctor waved his hand, indicating he needed a sedative which was instantly delivered with professional haste.
Red locked eyes with his counterpart. Dembe's eyes softened then fell pointedly to the blood stained streaks running down Reddington's chest area.
Red felt a wooziness overtake him, his vision blurring, a lightheadedness descending.
The nurses sat him up, slowly gaining some ground against Red's combative nature.
"Don't do this..." he whispered bleakly, weakly trying to stave off the inevitable. "I haven't... there wasn't time..." his thoughts rambled as he fought a losing battle. His consciousness wavered in and out.
Liz darted her head about, seeking explanations for Red's uncharacteristic behavior.
The woman's eyes widened, her mouth dropping agape as the horribly scarred flesh of Red's back was revealed. She shifted stunned, questioning eyes to Kate Kaplan.
The woman's expression remained unreadable as she returned her interest to the operating site.
Liz felt the blood drain from her face, unable to pull her gaze from the horrific sight revealed.
What horrible accident had befallen this man. And why had he never even mentioned the incident. Her heart filled with sadness and pain for what he must have suffered.
She wanted desperately to go to him. Her eyes met the bleary stare Red held across the room. A lump arose in her throat but Liz fought down the urge to cry. She smiled for him alone, her eyes shining brightly with new found admiration for the man.
"I was going to tell you..." he whispered, his throat too parched to speak above that volume.
She stepped slowly forward, grasping his hand. "It doesn't matter." the fingers of her other hand trailed a exquisitely tender path across a portion of the scarred flesh. "Nothing matters but you getting better."
He tensed, his body stiffening at the touch. The drugs were doing their thing, but the man felt a wave of nausea overtake him, not for the effect, but for the fact she now knew one of his darkest secrets.
"I need to tell you..." he fought the drowning blackness descending.
"Tell me later." she brought his hand to her lips pressing her mouth tenderly to his abnormally cold flesh.
"Lizzy..." he whispered painfully. "I meant to..." the man was not ready to surrender to the darkness just yet.
"Raymond," Kate Kaplan stepped close, her tone now a soothing one, "I will watch over her."
"Have to tell her..." he slurred, his hand frantically grasping for a stay hold of reality.
"And you will, when they're finished." Kate assured, waving Liz forward. She grasped the younger woman's hand, pulling her along side the bed.
Red's drooping eyes finally focused on Liz's lovely features. Blinking heavily, he pushed hard against the developing haze.
Kate mumbled something to the woman, then moved aside.
Liz leaned, her eyes misting. "Stop fighting," her mouth trembled visibly, "sleep..."
Red's eyes glistened with the threat of tears which he quickly blinked aside.
He breathed out harshly, lifting a shaky hand to cup her chin, his fingers gesturing her closer. The woman followed the directive, laying her lips against his.
"Sleep, Red..." Liz whispered against his mouth. "I will be here when you wake up." she stressed. "I promise."
His breathing deepened, feeling the pull of the drugs finally take him under.
His hand loosened on her face, going slack as he passed into twilight sleep. An oxygen mask was quickly inserted over his face and the race began.
Kate pulled Liz out of the way, directing her from the room.
Liz looked back uncertain whether or not to leave the man but Kaplan's steady gait urged her to follow. She exchanged a hurried glance with Silas as she passed the man. He sat quietly, as medical personnel stitched up a nasty looking wound in his right shoulder.
The gray-green eyes followed the women's exit before Silas returned his attention to the commotion taking place inside the sealed off Surgical area.
"What happened to him?" Liz questioned anxiously.
"I think you know." Kate replied, gesturing to the scar on Liz's wrist.
"...Fire." Liz inhaled shakily. "But..."
"Let it go for now." Kate sighed. "He was going to tell you himself." she stressed. "Just... give him a chance to explain." the older woman's eyes indicated the arrival of someone else on the scene before taking her leave.
Liz nodded curtly. Francis approached, chair in hand. Liz sat, her legs suddenly feeling too numb to support her.
"Why does she get to go back?" she watched Kaplan enter the operating room.
"Nobody questions that woman." he stated the facts of life. "You look like hell." Francis observed the woman's bloodstained clothing and chalky features.
Liz's face suddenly fell as the emotional onslaught began. She buried those emotions behind her hands, weeping brokenly, releasing the adrenaline, fear and stress of the past thirty minutes of hell she had lived through.
It felt like two lifetimes.
She could not count how many times, as an FBI agent, she had followed this same pattern. Especially after a horrific escapade. Once, she had even noted Samar, alone...shoulders shaking violently as the other woman stood among the row of silent lockers in the Blacksite arena.
Each Agent handled the release of stress in their own fashion, apparently.
Francis knelt before her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He's a strong man, Liz... he's been through worse."
"I'm scared, Francis." she whispered.
"I know." he drew back a little, looking at her. "But Red Reddington is not going to leave you, trust me on that one."
She smiled wanly, swallowing the bile in her throat.
That wasn't the only reason she was terrified, of course.
Francis didn't know she was FBI. He only knew her as Red's fiancée. Of course he would try to make what happened less scary. And she loved the man dearly for caring.
Then the long wait began.
She didn't know how long she sat there, listening to the muffled chatter coming from the medical staff across the way, but it was long enough that she began to feel stiff and cold... and totally lost and alone.
Her thoughts rambled from concern for Red to the fact that she had seen the horrible scars on the man's back.
Liz tried so hard to remember the events of that night, the night of the fire. She knew Red was there but in what capacity. Her father had saved her from the fire but she had a vague recollection of a man laying on the floor of the burning house as they passed into safety.
Was that man Red? Had he managed somehow to escape as well?
She wrapped her arms across her chest, warding off the chill. A warm blanket came out of nowhere, falling gently about her shoulders. She glanced hastily up.
"You all right?" Silas asked, crouching in front of her. He adjusted the sling around his neck, nodding his gratitude as Liz helped smooth the transition.
"No..." she whispered brokenly.
"Tell me."
"I don't know where to begin." she threw her hands out lamely.
"He's no different than he was before." Silas reminded sternly.
"He was scared, Silas." she had never seen the man anything other than in complete control and it was scaring the hell out of her to think something could phase Red to that extent.
"Yes..." the man nodded in agreement, "of your rejection."
"I would never reject him in any way, shape or form."
"You're a young, beautiful woman." Silas reminded. "And he's not perfect, obviously."
"Does he think I'm that shallow?"
"You know as well as I do, most women would be turned off by..."
"Well, I'm not most women." she snapped, glancing down at her hands, suddenly very intent on the ring on her hand.
"Look, I know you're chomping at the bit to know what the hell is going on." Silas began. "Just... let him get his shit together before you start the first degree."
The guard took a couple of steps before hesitating.
She watched the man's back, holding her breath expectantly, praying he would turn around.
"Look, you're not going to like a lot of what Red is going to tell you." he stated slowly, his eyes averted. "But instead of blocking him out the minute he says something that upsets you," the cool green stones shifted, steadily holding her gaze, "hear the man out all the way."
"You know what he's going to tell me, don't you?" she felt a foreboding.
"I do, yes." Silas nodded. "And its probably gonna hurt." he promised. "But Red... would never hurt you unless there was just no other fucking way."
Liz looked after the man as he walked towards the other guard, the harsh and hurtful words rattling around in her head.
But then, the truth did hurt... didn't it?
She clung desperately to the one thing said that gave hope.
Red would never hurt you...if there was any other way.
Her attention shifted hastily. The doctors were walking from the room, all disheveled and appearing exhausted. All except of course, Mr. Kaplan and Dembe who had followed the medical team more sedately.
Liz was moving before she knew what was happening, crossing the space rapidly, shoving her way through the heavy plastic. The woman slowed her movement, her eyes instantly falling on Red's bandaged chest and leg.
She approached him cautiously, ever so quietly. She gently took his hand, standing, staring down at the sleeping man.
She saw him now, in a different light.
Red had consistently placed himself between her and danger. Obviously, at great risk to himself. If the man was willing to give his life for hers, he surely would go out of his way to avoid hurting her.
Silas had just told her a different type of truth. One she needed to hear and to heed.
And she knew in that instant, regardless of what Red would say, no matter how much it hurt... she still wanted this.
She still wanted him.
Artfully balancing the tray on her arm, Liz entered the room, offering a genuine smile as she noted the patient was awake and alert.
"I hope there's some bacon on that tray." Red practically growled, attempting to arise.
"No, no..." the woman held out a staying hand, "don't try to get up, at least on your own." She hurriedly set the food aside crossing hastily to assist.
"Like I haven't been shot in the leg before..." the man's tone was downright surly. "What? Two weeks ago, by Ressler, wasn't it?"
Elizabeth grimaced slightly. "No bacon... Mr. Kaplan left strict instructions. Poached egg, fruit crepe, toast," she looked the plate over, "umm, and some tea."
"I want my fucking coffee, I want some fucking bacon." the man folded his arms, his expression more than set. "And Kate Kaplan can kiss my rosy ass."
Elizabeth bit the inside of her jaw to keep from smiling. "Well, you can tell her that, but I think I can smuggle you in some turkey bacon."
Red's eyes shifted frostily.
The woman sighed mentally. "Coffee and bacon, coming up." she turned dutifully, but the man's voice stopped her.
"I need to tell you about the relationship between me and your parents." the man minced no words, facing the dreaded task head on.
Liz tensed slightly, turning back slowly. "I think maybe, that can wait until..."
"I will just give you the cliff notes. We can discuss the rest later." He steeled himself, shifting his aching body, preparing himself mentally.
Vowing to take Silas' advice and hear Red out, the woman drew in a deep breath. She took a seat beside Red, lifting her countenance.
If she needed a minute to process what he was saying, she would tell him. It was just that simple.
She would not run away.
"It must have crossed your mind a thousand times," he began stalwartly, "why was it, I invaded your life."
"Did you love my mother? Were you her lover?" Liz asked point blank, blurting out the enquiry.
"Where the hell did that come from?" Red was more than stunned, he was mystified.
He lifted his eyes to hers, holding them steadily. "I was fond of your mother but I did not love her romantically. We were never intimate."
He had to give her something...he was about to make her life hell.
"I was her handler, like you are mine." he patiently explained, ignoring the pain he was in, his pills having worn off an hour ago.
"My mother was a criminal." Liz said that like she had been expecting it.
Red opened his mouth, hesitating, "She was a traitor against her own country." he amended. "One must understand the circumstances under which she was operating. I was sent to assist her." he gathered his thoughts for a moment before continuing. "We gathered intel and long story short, we had to get out of Russia fast."
"And my father?" Liz asked hopefully, grateful for the small amount of information she had garnered.
"Your father was... complicated." He couldn't tell her who her father was, there was too much at stake right now. "He wanted... so many things. We were all working towards a common goal, but he got fed up with it all." Red sat back, easing his shoulder this way and that, wincing from the experience. "We all did at one point or another."
"He took the Fulcrum, didn't he?" Liz had figured that much out.
"Yes."
"Why does everyone think I have it?" she exasperated. "Why does everyone think he would place something so obviously dangerous, with a child?"
Red's expression went cold, devoid of emotion. "Because he did."
"You know this, for certain?" she felt she should defend her father but she had no idea why.
"I do," it was bluntly stated.
"It could have burned in the fire or he could have–"
"I found it, Elizabeth." Red put an end to the speculation.
"What..." she breathed out her shock.
"When I closed out your house," it almost felt good to get so much out in the open, "I found it, in your possessions."
Liz looked up at the man, in total disbelief... shock.
Red had the Fulcrum all this time and he...
She had been so sure, once he had it in his possession, he would do whatever the hell he was going to do with it and leave.
But he hadn't done either thing. "Have you..."
"No," he stated simply. "I have not used it in any capacity."
"Why not?" she questioned breathlessly.
Red's eyes softened, understanding the question for what it was.
He reached, brushing his hand over her cheek. "I had more important things on my mind."
He lifted the tea cup, glancing at the creamy liquid, grimaced then sat it back on the tray. He was giving her time to process but not at the expense of his taste buds.
"I have to get up." he threw the covers aside and the woman arose automatically staring at his activity.
"What are you doing?" she was numbed, his actions not making any sense to her right now.
"I would like to use the facilities." he made mention, continuing on, arising slowly to get his bearings.
She followed after him hastily as the man crossed to the enclosed facilities.
So many things were going through her head, that she didn't even notice, she had not given him any privacy what-so-ever until the man re-entered the room, retreating to the basin.
He brushed his teeth methodically, waiting for the questions to come.
"Kaplan says the bandages have to be changed." she blew him away by the change in subject. He shifted his gaze, putting the mouthwash aside.
She must have a hundred questions rattling in her head and instead of voicing them, she picked that statement to say. He smiled slightly, shaking his head.
The man was given pause for thought.
"I'll call Dembe..."
"Stop pushing me away," Liz cut to the chase. "I already saw them." she reminded. The woman stepped the space separating them, her hands lifting to unbutton the first two on his shirt.
Red's hand bunched the fabric below her efforts, his eyes steady on hers.
"I'm still here," she met his gaze unflinchingly. "Take a hint."
He glanced at the pile of medical supplies waiting on the counter. His hand fell away slowly and Liz continued to undress him.
The cool air hit his bare torso and for a moment he felt panic.
Maybe in the light of day, she'd feel differently? Or maybe he was kidding himself and it was really him thatfelt insecure.
After everything they'd been through this past couple weeks, all the privacy she had lost, he'd be a damned coward if he did not take the shirt off.
And there was one thing Red Reddington wasn't and that was a coward.
Red made the decision, and in the end it was his own hand who pulled the shirt from his torso.
The woman's eyes scanned the visible scars before lifting innocuously. She picked up a sterile package, peeling the outer package away.
The man felt years of insecurity figuratively and literally, roll off his back.
She stepped behind him, hanging the shirt on a hook. Turning, she took in his newly bared skin, staring openly.
The scarring was... extensive.
She felt a moment of empathy which she quickly squelched, because she was more mesmerized by his broad shoulders, strong arms and the slope of his neck.
Red turned his head seeking her out as the silence had stretched into infinity. He startled when he felt the light touch of her fingers skirting along his back before she placed the warm palm flat against its surface.
She closed her eyes, as visions of fire suddenly overwhelmed her. A hand pulled her close before she was lifted in strong arms. The heat had been so intense, followed by bitter cold.
She vaguely remembered her hands feeling so cold, they felt like they were on fire.
A complete paradox that had suddenly been overshadowed by a deep, pained voice... soothing her. Telling her everything would be all right. She had been wrapped in warmth, her bunny tucked securely in the makeshift blanket.
Elizabeth's eyes opened quickly, a clarity in them that hadn't been there before. Understanding dawning on her.
She lay her cheek just under Red's shoulder blade, wrapping her arms around his waist, her finger nails curled into his stomach just above his waist. She burrowed into him.
He heard her faint sniffle, wondering if it was pity she was feeling, hating the idea.
"It was you... " she whispered tremulously, "not my father... you saved me."
He hesitated, uncertain as how to answer.
"You lied?" She stated, no venom or malice behind the words.
"I couldn't take that away from you." He took a shuddering breath, "You needed to believe...it was the only good memory of him you had."
The silence was uncomfortable for the man.
"Is there anything you wouldn't give up for me?"
"No," He answered without hesitation.
She ran her hand from his stomach up over his pectoral, threading her hand through the hair on his chest. Resting her hand over his heart.
She hugged him gently, mindful of his fresh wound. She leaned away, guilt racking at her psyche.
"I've been so unbelievably cruel to you. How can you have been so patient with me?" she was stupefied. "How can you not resent me, hate me?"
"There are many things in this world I hate, Elizabeth." he turned to face her. "You are not listed among them." he smiled gently at the wetness on her cheeks.
He cupped the back of her head with one large palm, petting the silky strands of her hair.
"It's their fault that I'm in this mess." she voiced her grievances. "Not you... I should have seen that, I should have instinctively known."
Red shook his head disagreeing with her assessment. "There is no way you could have known the twisted mess your parents and I had gotten ourselves into."
Liz began the ritual she had watched Dembe preform so often. She busied herself with antiseptically cleansing his wound.
"Your father was many things, but he adored you." Red stated quietly. "He had been visiting you at Sam's frequently. There was a lull in our issues and your father felt it was safe for you to spend the week with him." he recalled the time. "Everything was fine, until Katarina arrived."
Liz kept quiet, holding her questions for now, her hands gently administering to his injuries.
"She came for the Fulcrum." Red remembered vividly the details. "They argued, then your mother's husband showed up with his assistants."
Liz felt this is where things became... strained, for lack of a better word.
"The argument escalated." Red scoffed, remembering how heated things became, then of course... Elizabeth's part in the fiasco.
"Constantine saw you, with your father..." he sighed, "the resemblance was unmistakable." he explained. "He had suspected, of course, but now he had proof of Katarina's infidelity."
Red's eyes shifted, remembering the night. "Things went sideways, somewhere in the fracas, someone started a fire, or a fire started... I don't remember that part clearly."
He looked at that beautiful face, staring at his so openly and he just... couldn't tell her that in the confusion, she had shot her own father. Not right now, not with so much being thrown at her.
Liz stared off into space, seeing a quick vision of clothes hanging on a bar. Then smoke billowing in through the slats in the door.
"The closet," she concluded. "Is that when you came for me?"
"I heard you screaming." he remembered those screams in his nightmares. "I came back in, but the house was... an inferno by that point." his countenance darkened. "I finally found you but the house was literally giving way underfoot."
Red rubbed his thumbs hard into his eye sockets, trying to erase the images. "I reached the nearest window..." he stroked the raised skin on her wrist, his expression foreboding. "I can't recall much after that, to be honest." He had even tried hypnosis. "All I remember is trying to get out of that damned house."
He could still smell the burning flesh sometimes at night in his nightmares.
"The next thing I knew, I woke up," he recalled looking into those blue eyes that had been so terrified, "you were shivering uncontrollably but still piling snow on my back."
"I don't remember anything but tiny flashes." she admitted. "I wonder why?"
"You were terrified. Almost catatonic." he tried to find an explanation himself. "After a couple days, you still hadn't come out of it, so Kate suggested replacing the night with a different memory."
He pulled away from her touch, more troubled by the fact than he would like to admit, but in the end... "It worked."
"It's very complicated Elizabeth. So damned complicated." there were times, he himself, could not sort through the mazes of deceit.
Odd, her heart didn't feel as though it was in pieces. She moved closer to him needing the security. He turned towards her, as he always did, waiting...
Liz wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. She felt Red tense, before relaxing against her, enfolding her in his arms.
Today had been... a revelation. For them both. Did it even matter anymore? The damage was done.
She leaned in, kissing the scarring on his shoulder. The man startled at the unexpected touch, his head turning slightly.
She laid another soft kiss to the side of his arm, gauging his reaction.
She stared openly at the hard chest covered in a wealth of hair, scanning the tight muscles of his arms.
Placing her palm flat on his abdomen, she felt the ripple under her hand as he reacted to the unexpected touch.
Liz mapped the rough area of his flesh, one particular indentation catching her attention. She tapped the spot gently with her finger, her eyes lifting questioningly.
"Russia, 2001." Red stated roughly, answering the silent enquiry. "Gunshot."
Moving the tip of her finger over an inch, scratching her fingernail across his warm skin which caused a rise of goose flesh over his body. She traced a thin white line about an inch in length.
"Dublin, 2004. Knife."
She traced a jagged scar on his side, faded with time, but still visible.
"California, 1984. Surfing."
She lifted a quizzical expression, her brows furrowing.
"Got caught up in a wave, was thrown into rocks. Got that and a couple broken ribs."
"And possibly a lifelong fear of surfing." she quipped.
"No, I was out the next day." he dismissed such an implication. "It hurt like hell, but I loved it."
Liz traced his torso and arms, mapping out each one. Red supplying the place and incident for each, his voice never changing pitch.
She traced the small round scar at his neck, the last one she hit upon.
"DC, 2013." He smiled warmly. "Ballpoint Pen."
"I'm sorry." She apologized readily. Those blue eyes stealing his heart when they were that soft and only for him.
"No you aren't." He chuckled. "I'm sure there have been days you wished to repeat the action."
"Okay then, I'm sorry for the reason I did it." She grinned. "I have wanted to knock sense into you, but not stab you." she shrugged minutely. "Not lately, anyway."
"Well, that's a relief." he took it as a good sign. "I have enough enemies, I don't need one sharing my bed."
"Red..." she looked at him oddly, and he prepared himself for the worst.
"Um hmm?" he humored her anyway.
"Are we still going on our date tomorrow?"
It was his turn to look at her oddly. "I've just been shot... twice."
"Francis said," she lifted warning eyes, "they're just flesh wounds."
"Oh he did, did he?" Red held his smile.
"That's what he said." she nodded vigorously.
"Well then..." he contended, "Damn right we are."