Red's expression was a bleak one as he read the headline.
"Armed Robbery Leads to Deaths"
He read silently, his thoughts on the small print. According to the article, a struggle occurred between two men, the result, a robbery gone bad.
An unidentified man had been fatally stabbed during the altercation. Before succumbing to his wound, the victim had rebounded enough to stab his assailant in the chest with the alleged robber's own knife.
Both men were pronounced dead at the scene. Identification was being withheld pending notification to the respective families.
Anthony Burke had called this morning so Red had already been apprised of how the events of last nights debacle now stood. Otherwise, Red would have just bypassed the article and not been aware of what had happened.
Hearing Lizzy's approach, Red sat the paper aside. Francis picked up the folded section, scanning the print.
Red smiled warmly upon Liz's entrance, arising, pulling her chair out.
Elizabeth Keen was not a morning person. She sat wearily, clutching his coffee in desperate hands, greedily drinking the dark beverage.
Taking several long sips of the liquid caffeine, soon the velvet liquid soothed and calmed rattled nerves, she lifted blue eyes to his patiently waiting ones.
"Good morning." he bade, his gaze a sympathetic one. "Feeling any better?"
"I'm in the acceptance stage they tell me." she knew the process, "Who the hell thinks to put labels on such a thing?" she was still mad at the world and its injustices.
"...I'm sorry." she apologized, her eyes conveying so much more than she could verbally express in mixed company. "I felt... feel so helpless."
Red nodded his comprehension, "I try to protect you from things like this and it seems I inadvertently bring it to your door most times."
"You didn't bring anything to the table." Francis took exception. "The little creep–" he let it go, seeing Red's warning glance, before continuing on. "This is no one's fault. Life...or death happens. It's our job to try and make some kind of sense of it all."
The room fell silent as each occupant considered the words.
Francis sat back in the high backed chair, folding his arms. "I know one thing," he cast them both a solemn look, "if it were my time, I wouldn't want you guys sitting around feeling like shit. I would hate to think you were." his scowl increased, "I think Kevin would hate it too."
Red sat back down, admiring the man's intuitiveness. He knew Francis was trying to make it better for Lizzy.
"I.. I would hate it too." Liz knew in her heart, she wouldn't want people she cared about agonizing over their sadness and anger... so very lost, floundering through the despair she was experiencing.
"If we want to honor Kevin, we should see to what he would if he could be here." Francis unfolded his arms sitting straighter in the chair. "His family," he ticked off, "that was his priority. Red has made it his, monetarily speaking."
"You mean, Anthony Burke." Red corrected.
"Yeah..." Francis knew the man better than Red believed. "Who sat up the college fund for the sister's kids? Anthony Burke?"
Liz lifted grateful eyes to Red's annoyed ones.
"Why don't you mind your own business for a change?" he grumbled. "You sneaky little bastard. How did you find out about that?" Red was stumped. He knew Dembe wouldn't have blabbed.
"My ways are inscrutable." Francis waved a dismissing hand. "The point is, Kevin can rest easy. He knows we got it covered."
Nora entered, balancing plates. "Oh, sweetheart," her face fell, "I didn't know you were stirring. I'll get your–"
"No," Liz arose, pushing back from the table, "I am perfectly capable of getting my own breakfast." she cut Nora an affectionate glance. "As long as you cook it."
The older woman sat the eggs and bacon in front of the men.
Red smiled, watching the women's trek into the kitchen. Francis was busy devouring his first plate.
Pulling his plate closer, Red lifted his fork as Lizzy promptly returned with a platter of eggs, fresh fruit and a bagel.
"Chick food," Francis turned up his nose at such fare.
"Anything special on the agenda today?" the woman questioned both individuals.
"Have a meeting with the Chinese today." Francis replied glumly.
"Are you talking about Cheung?" Red's attention was caught, his mood not so light and breezy suddenly.
Francis halted his fork mid-stride, "...Yes," he had caught the tone. "Why?"
Red mused for a moment, "When did this come up?"
Francis put his fork down.
Liz was astonished, her mouth falling open.
"What's going on." Francis demanded "What did I not hear about? I hate when I don't know what the hell is going on... what's going on?"
Liz looked to Red as well.
"You didn't hear about Moran or Byrne?" Red was surprised.
"...I know Moran got hit, no one knows by wh–" the light dawned "You think Cheung is clearing away competition?"
Liz watched the man return to his food, nonchalantly shoveling biscuit and gravy into his mouth by copious amounts, seemingly unfazed by the topic at hand.
"Did he say why he needed to meet?" Red had returned to his own food.
"Something about wanting to increase his quantity of shipments." Francis reached for the strawberry jam which Nora had laid out so appealingly in the China serving dish, "Should have sent the bells clanging," the man scoffed. "As if I would entertain such a request."
"It's always a good idea to at least put up the pretense of considering the notion." Red looked around for Nora, his coffee was dwindling.
Liz made a face, lifting the decorative urn off the raised rest, pouring the dark liquid, exasperated.
Red smiled happily over at the her for the action.
"Hey, hey, hey..." Francis forced his own cup to the fore.
Liz filled it with a wry expression.
"Thank you, Lizzy." Red remembered his manners, hoisting his cup on high.
"We should check Cheung's movements for the last couple weeks." Francis decided. "You gonna eat that?" he motioned to a wayward piece of bacon laying haphazardly on Red's plate.
Red pushed the object toward the man's eager embrace, reaching for his phone. "I can contact–"
He scowled, following the warm hand which instantly covered his, up the slender arm, to Lizzy's pretty face.
"You'll finish your breakfast before it gets cold." Liz motioned. "I think business can wait for an hour at least."
Red scowled darkly at the fingers which had clamped decisively around his own.
"This could mean life or death, woman." Francis forked scrambled eggs onto his plate, "For me no less!"
"I don't see anyone out there at the moment." she had checked the outside area. "Do you want seconds?"
"I wouldn't turn them down." the guy seemed to feel better.
"We should really get the ball rolling on this matter." Red reminded Francis more than Lizzy.
"Nora has a fresh batch of biscuits." Liz won the war, Francis was up and out in seconds.
"Bring some blackberry jam." she called out.
"Lizzy..." the man's demeanor was serious.
"Red Reddington," she stopped the tirade with a stubborn hand, "do you recall me asking you just last week–"
Francis returned, treats in hand. He slowed his steps, sensing a chill in the air. Both participants had shut the hell up with his arrival. He glanced from one to the other as he sat.
"Okay..." he had looked at his plate, in a considering manner, "it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know there's a slight dissension in the air."
Red cut him a, mind your own business, look.
Liz sighed her growing frustration, "I just wanted a quiet breakfast. After last night..." she trailed away listlessly.
Her fingers drew away from Red's, leaving the phone in their wake.
Red looked at it morosely.
"And he's a grumpy bastard, just wanting to get back into the game, huh." Francis stated knowingly.
Red sent another look, this one a little more distinct in nature, all of which Francis ignored.
"Look," he spread his hands, "the meeting is later today. We've got time." it was reminded. "Besides, I've seen you plan a hostage rescue in five minutes, then execute it in less than ten."
Red shifted irritably. He was not accustomed to anyone setting limits on his time or efforts... not even Lizzy.
Francis studied the two, "Do you know what she does when you're not here?"
Liz sat up, ready to be offended.
Red shifted impatient eyes, interested in spite of his mood.
"She sits there," Francis pointed, "with puppy dog eyes, just staring at your empty chair."
Red checked the woman's reaction, feeling a warmth in his chest. She missed... him? He knew she had said it before, but it was said while they had been making love. He naturally assumed–
"I do not!" Liz defended halfheartedly.
"Red, you once told me that, the business will always be there. The people we care about?" Francis glanced at the woman. "Maybe not. You said, we shouldn't forget how precious that side of our lives is. That we should never take it for granted, right?"
Red's mood eased. He sat back in the chair, contemplating the words.
"I get what Liz is trying to say, but she's saying it like a chick." Francis spared the woman a supportive smile. "This means something." he motioned around the table they occupied.
The silence fell. Liz bit back tears.
"It's the small stuff." Francis, too grew contemplative. "Like sharing breakfast with the people you..." he trailed away.
"Well, this is getting maudlin." he snapped out of it. "I'll be damned if I let a would be player ruin the moment." he threw Red a meaningful look.
"She just wants to spend a few minutes with you, enjoying some quiet time. That's all." Francis said knowingly. "You can give her that, Red. The rest of it can wait." he assured. "And it's my life that's in the balance, so I get to call the shots on this one."
The older man knew a life lesson when one was delivered. He reached, his hand covering Lizzy's. His eyes mellow.
"Out of the mouth's of babes," Red motioned across the table. "...and idiots."
Liz tightened her fingers in his, "Stop being mean."
"Yeah, stop being mean." Francis quipped, swiping Red's biscuit.
The man sighed heavily. "I wanted that."
"Nora has plenty more," Francis bit into the succulent bread. "Unless Silas has already been in this morning."
"I'll get some." Liz held her amusement.
"She'll get some." Francis was okay with the fact, watching Liz traipse of to the kitchen.
Red lifted his eyes to the woman upon her return, biscuit in hand, "So you missed me, humm?" his eyes danced devilishly.
"Not so you'd notice." she fought back instinctively.
Red pulled the butter tray closer, searching for his knife. Cutting off a pat of butter, he spread it onto the warmed biscuit, watching the soft yellow melt into the fluffy breading.
This was a treat Lizzy found he enjoyed in the mornings. This morning he almost missed the opportunity because of a stupid decision on his part.
How could business become more important, to his way of thinking than spending time with her.
"You missed me." he seemed more than pleased with the fact.
Liz threw Francis a, you'll pay for this one, look as she snatched the coffee urn in her grasp.
The woman marched to the kitchen knowing she had lost 'round one'.
Well, that battle wasn't over just yet. She swished her backside saucily sensing Red's eyes the entire way until the kitchen door closed behind her.
"There!" she stated sotto voce, satisfied with her performance one hundred percent.
"That," Francis motioned, "was for your benefit."
"Yes," Red's smile touched his lips as he chastised his cock for over-reacting. He subtly adjusted the problem to a more comfortable position, sitting back in his chair. "I picked up on that, Francis."
"It's a wonder..." Francis mumbled around his jelly laden biscuit.
Red held his tongue because... the boy was right.
He may be older and wiser, but he had totally missed the subtle clues right in front of him he became too focused on business instead of his personal time. A time he had fervently dreamed of having, with Elizabeth.
The man pushed his phone aside, determined to follow through on Francis' advice for once.
It was good hour and a half later, after a leisurely repast, he and Francis journeyed to the office.
Red stood now, staring morosely at the pile of mail awaiting his perusal. Silas had given warning. New 'letters' had arrived in Red's absence.
Francis was distracted, phone in hand. The man sauntered about the office, finding all sorts of objects of interest as he went. He picked up each, examining and prodding before moving down the neatly lined shelves on display.
Red's brow furrowed with each passing sentence he read.
Why did you fight? What has Reddington told you or threatened you with that you didn't come willingly? Why the hell are you cuddling up to him? An even better question, why the fuck are you kissing him? Don't you understand that Reddington is destroying you, Liz? He's making you a traitor to your own kind. We're the good guys, not him. Next chance you get, come to me. You know how to contact me.
Scoffing, Red threw the letter into the ever growing pile and turned his attention to the problem at hand.
Francis.
After a couple dozen calls, Red's contacts confirmed his growing fears.
"There seems to be a pattern emerging." Francis grinned over at him. "That makes eight by my count. This guy isn't being very subtle is he."
Eight casualties in Cheung's path, not two as Red had previously thought. Eight movers and shakers, eliminated.
"And you are next." Red pointed out the obvious.
"No one has been able to punch my ticket to date." Francis laughed at the absurdity. "The thing that gets me... the guy is so pleasant to your face."
"What has that got to do with anything?" Red was genuinely stumped. "This is business. Knock out the competition."
"Yeah, if you have a 'forties' mentality." Francis shook his head. "That's not how it's done anymore and you know it."
"It is in Cheung's part of the world."
"Well, he's here now. You have to adapt... or die."
Red spread his hands, "That was a given, yes." he smirked slightly at Francis' put out expression. "Glad to see you have caught up with the rest of us."
"They weren't even decent competition." was what puzzled Francis. "Take Moran. He's been more than disillusioned for a while. Business wasn't going well, his family disowned him. His wife took up with Finn Gallagher. I'd be surprised if Moran even put up a fight when the time came."
"Byrne's loyalty was in question..." Red pointed out, "how many of his men had bailed to date?"
"If Cheung's implying I'm not at the top of my game..." Francis took exception.
"Regardless of their situations," Red soothed, "I believe Cheung's fishing for big game now."
Red shook his head woefully as Francis preened, clearly pleased by the praise for his status in the world.
"Damned straight." Francis returned to his perusal of a particular oddity he had located on the highest shelve to the right of Red's desk. "Well, now what?"
The kid was clearly, totally unconcerned for the impending threat.
Red pondered for a beat, "Change the meeting place."
"And if he doesn't go for it?"
"Then cancel the entire show." Red advised.
"Which will only postpone the inevitable." Francis made the call.
It was decided the meeting would take place on his home turf. Francis' home was located on a large acreage, the house settled far back into a canopy of trees. Away from prying eyes... he hoped.
Red had already sent for Silas. Security would be heavy and hopefully, somewhat unexpected. Well, to the point where an egotist like Cheung would consider it a challenge.
It would also be a bragging right to go up against higher odds if he pulled such a coup off for later times in the Organization.
Liz came into the room while the call was in progress. Red held up a staying hand, the woman took the hint, listening attentively until the call was finished.
"We have a two o'clock appointment with the Grim Reaper." Francis smirked, replacing his cell into its familiar inside pocket of the stylish jacket he sported.
Red nodded absently when Silas appeared, pulling up short behind the still silent woman.
"You're blocking my path." his gravelly voice held a touch of menace. "That's a fire hazard."
"Go around," Liz responded, just as short and clipped. She had not found any humor in Francis' last quip.
Silas chuckled his appreciation pushing his bulk past the girl, careening her into a curio-cabinet as he did so.
Liz swung out, smacking the guy on the broad, muscular shoulder. Her hand stung after the fact. She cradled it soothingly.
"If you ever hit me and I find out about it..." Silas drawled lazily. "My guys are on their way." he turned his attention to business, directing the statement to Red. "Medical team will set up near the house but far enough away that Genghis Khan has no clue to their presence."
"Medical team?" Liz was instantly concerned.
"That's just standard operating procedure" Silas assured the woman.
"Better to have them close as not." Francis reminded. "Just a precaution, Lizzy. Really."
Red watched the woman's face, reading her body language.
"Oh..." she tried to smile, "yeah, that makes sense... that's good then."
"What's wrong?" Red approached, sensing a problem. He encouraged the woman to voice her concerns with his gentle manner. "This is no different than any other time we've–"
"I know that." she hastened to reassure. "It's just that..." How could she tell him? It was stupid to even her. The feeling of deja vu... the uneasiness.
"What?" the man's hands rubbed tenderly up and down her arms. "Tell me."
"...The last time this happened," she blurted, "you ended up getting shot... twice!" her entire body was one coiled tension rod. Red could feel it.
"Nora has prepared a cake." Silas sensed the two needed to talk. "She wants me to lick her bowl... let's go, Junior."
"Lick her bowl." Francis took the hint for once. "She wouldn't let you within ten feet of her bowl!"
Red motioned curtly with his head. Silas and Francis vacated the room.
"I know you guys have to... do what you do but does it hurt to have a little common sense sometimes?" Liz had to ask. "Isn't it a better strategy to hit him first... or whatever? When you are calling the shots."
Red sighed lightly, the woman's large blue eyes touching his heart.
"It's odd," he smiled down at the little face, "having someone give a shit about me."
Liz lifted her arms, grasping tightly to the strong shoulders. Those blue eyes closed, a dark premonition overtaking her.
"Please don't go." she pleaded her desperation.
"There isn't much I would ever refuse you." he whispered, his embrace tightening about the small delicate frame. "You know that." he closed his eyes, exhaling his regret.
He made her look at him. "I think Francis needs me, Elizabeth. I think it best if I be there."
Liz knew the truth when she heard it. Frustrated, stymied... "Then let me help!"
The man's manner changed. "If you're there, my focus will be on you and your safety." he reasoned. "It needs to be on Cheung."
"You expect me to just sit here and wait for the news that–"
"That is exactly what I expect." he interrupted curtly, his expression set. "This is just another normal day in the life." he cautioned. "You're going to have to become accustomed to that, Elizabeth Scott."
She fumed, crossing her arms over her chest.
Red softened, stepping closer. "I know my place in the scheme of things." his gaze an unassuming one. "I'm asking that you stay here... trust me to get the job done. Can you do that?"
His proximity left her warm and tingling inside, but deep in the recesses of her mind, the nagging, dark foreboding still lurked, unabated.
"Do your profiles," he lightened the moment, "harass Tom, make Silas do aerobics. Which is your normal." Red shrugged mentally. To each his own, after all. "Such are the Days of Our Lives."
"God, you make me so mad, Red Reddington!" she fumed, her ire reaching a fever pitch. "If I were a man, I'd–"
"Oh, honey, please don't." Red cringed at the thought. "You profane a subject intrinsically sacred to me."
Liz turned on her heel, too upset to even deign a reply.
Red barred her path, hands held high, "I'm sorry, baby." he had instantly regretted his flippancy. "That was shitty of me." he confessed.
The man attempted to embrace Elizabeth. He thought he would be rebuked but instead, she allowed his tactics, her arms clutching at him almost frantically.
"It's okay, baby." he embraced her body tightly. "I was a bastard, forgive me."
Liz's fingers tightened about Red's neckline. She took in the scent of the man, breathing in his essence.
Red rubbed her back consolingly. The silence was comfortable once again, but he could feel the tension emanating from the slender frame.
A queasiness overcame the woman. She swallowed hard. The deja vu was more than unsettling. Liz tried to reason it away with logic and intellect.
Red leaned, his mouth gently coaxing response in spite of the small tremors wracking her body.
Liz relaxed into the sphere of his arms, eagerly returning the insistent pressure of his sensual lips.
She put her whole heart and soul into that kiss, a part of her, a large part, wishing to convince the man to stay.
Wrapping her free arm about his neck, she moved into his body as his hands slid along her waist. A large palm cradled the small of her back, the other threading through her hair.
Red pulled her against him, the warm curvaceous body edging him closer to a decision he could not make at this time. She was making him want to do so, however. Her tender lips pressed against his, little puffs of breath tickling his cheek.
After all they had done, the intimacy they shared, a simple kiss and embrace still felt brand new. He had never felt anything so wonderful in his arms, as Elizabeth Keen.
She mewled softly, relaxing in his hold. Her breasts pressed into his chest along with the rest of her beautiful little body. Grunting his appreciation when the feminine curve of her pelvis settled against his thigh, Red almost lost the will to control his rising desire.
All he wanted at that moment was to find the most convenient damned wall, press her into the surface and get between those velvet soft thighs.
He slipped his palm beneath the fabric of her blouse caressing satin flesh. He moved his inquisitive fingers up the familiar expanse of skin, his fingers hooking on the top rim of her bra.
The delicate lace easily gave way to his insistent urging as the back of his fingers raked gently across the heated surface.
Liz moaned encouragingly when he brushed the rosy nipple into a tight peak of arousal.
Her fingers massaged the back of his head lovingly sending delicious waves of pleasure down his spine.
The tip of her tongue melted to his erotically. She moved against the straining bulge in his slacks, her mouth parting hungrily for his.
Red broke the contact out of necessity, "You think it's easy to leave you... at anytime?" his roughened voice scolded, forcing a little space between them. "Don't do this to me, baby."
Liz closed her eyes, deeply affected by the pain he allowed her to read in the grey eyes.
"I don't want to go..." he reiterated, his voice strained, "I have to go."
Liz nodded minutely, her mouth parting his one last time. "Please come back." The blue eyes lifted, haunted with the possibility he might not this time.
"Oh, I'll come back." he cast her a look, "if only to collect on your promise... and finish what you started."
She blinked innocent eyes up at him.
"And don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
She didn't. "Then you make sure you remember that."
A knowledgeable glint returned to his eyes, "Ohh, I'll remember," he vowed, "and not Cheung or any damn thing else will stop me."
Francis entered the room, his weapon out of its holster. "This mag is sticking." he complained but finally slid the metal into the slot.
"You have your extra?" Red took the full magazines the man handed over, placing them into the pocket of his linen jacket.
"Of course." Francis took umbrage. "This isn't my first rodeo, you know."
"Yeah..." Red touched Lizzy's cheek in a display of open affection, his eyes clouding over, "just don't forget you have it tucked away this time."
"Are you ever going to let me forget that one little lapse?" it was exasperated.
"Did you inform Silas where we would be?" Red moved on.
"I thought the sitting room with the fireplace." Francis had pondered the equation, "Strategically, it's perfect for our purpose."
Red handed Lizzy a card, "Here are numbers in case my phone is out of commission. These people will know the situation at any given moment. Just tell them who you are."
Liz glanced at the hastily scribbled numbers. "Do you expect your phone to be–"
"You said, think of all contingencies." he reminded. "I broke the screen on my phone the last time, remember?"
When he was with Lizzy's team, when they cornered Patrick O'Brian, he had thrown himself over Samar, cracking the face plate of the phone on her vest, rendering it useless.
"Everything will be fine, Lizzy." Francis kissed her cheek. The woman surprised him by offering up a bear hug in return.
"You just make sure you're beside him..." she indicated Red who was preparing his own gear for use, "when he comes through that door." she pointed.
"I will see no harm befalls them." Dembe had come through the archway only to pick up the gear from the cluttered table before exiting yet again. The man caught eyes with Red Reddington.
"No permanent damage, at least." Dembe would never promise anything he could not deliver without absolute certainty, but the words had been for Red's ears alone.
Red acknowledged his friend with a smile as Dembe and Francis left the room.
Liz determined to reign in her unreasonable fear, forcing a smile as well, "Be safe," she whispered, "and you better not wait to call like last time," she pouted, "the minute it's all clear–"
"I'll pick up the phone... or a phone." he assured.
He hefted a bag of ammo over his shoulder, "Don't sit around worrying... keep busy. It will make the time pass."
The sooner he got this shit over with, the sooner he could get back home.
He paused, his hand on the knob of the door. He hesitated further, his eyes taking in the grave expression on the lovely face.
"I will be back, Elizabeth." it was more a vow to himself now. "I will always come back to you," his manner was more than comforting, "... always. I promise."
The room was inordinately still with his departure. Liz hugged herself tightly but didn't try to stop the trembling, free to experience the troubling sensations now without having to keep up the brave face for the man.
She stared at the opened doorway, her thoughts running a mile a minute, indecision racking her brain.
Stalking to the car, Red yanked the back door open, sliding into the cushy interior absently, a fixed scowl on his face.
He glanced over, sensing Francis' scrutiny.
"What?" the car started, pulling down the long drive.
"Red ironically, really isn't your color." the guy handed over a handkerchief, motioning, "you've got a little lipstick..."
Red blotted his lips, his mood dropping. It felt as if he were erasing Lizzy's touch.
"What was it?" Francis continued his teasing. Red knew it was the man's way of coping with the stress of what was to come. "Was she offering incentive to come back or you guys getting into the kinky shit finally."
Red cast a dark glare his way.
"Incentive it was." Francis seemed totally disappointed.
They arrived before the opposition, but just. Red didn't even have time to finish the drink Francis had provided when the doorbell rang.
"Aren't they polite... and on time too." Francis seemed impressed.
"You better get this shit over and done." Red shot the man a warning glance. "No fucking dawdling. No polite rhetoric... just bring it to a head quickly."
"So you can get back to, Lizzy." Francis finished, a big grin on his face. "What did she do, promise you a blow if you came back unscathed?"
Red's eyes slid shut as visions of Lizzy's luscious lips wrapping about his cock flooded his minds eyes. The images so vivid, a fine sheet of perspiration broke out of his brow and upper lip.
Francis had expected a retort, checking when one was not forthcoming. He quirked a brow, sensing the reason Red had not responded with his usual aplomb.
The younger man laughed heartily, "Oh hell... did she?" he was thrilled by the notion and the fact, Red seemed so affected by the concept presented. "Boy, she's got you all riled up!" he cackled his glee. "How the mighty have fallen."
"Francis," Red was more than exasperated, "I'm about to stick my foot up your ass." there was teasing and there was, being a pain in the ass.
It was at that exact moment, Cheung and his entourage chose to enter their domain.
"Greetings my friends." the Chinese man had included Reddington in his salutation. He clearly had not expected such good fortune to smile upon him this day. "Ah, Red Reddington, what a remarkable surprise. And what has you in such good spirits this fine day, Francis? May I enquire?"
Francis could hardly contain himself, "I never thought I'd see the day a woman would lead this guy," he hooked his thumb to a suddenly impassive companion, "around by his dick."
"The picture you paint, Francis." Nothing was going to phase Red now.
Francis knew the man had dropped into his blasé mode. A face Red presented to his business associates.
"You are a regular Gauguin today, I must say, I heartily approve." Red finished. The insincere smile was in place.
"I did not expect to see you here." Cheung took a seat across from the other man.
Francis noted with interest, the two cryptic looking companions situated themselves strategically, one behind Red's position, one behind his own.
"Has your dear Madeline forgiven all your many transgressions. I assume she is the only female capable of–"
"You assume wrong." Francis had turned to the matter at hand himself. "Madeline is so passé she's not even in the picture any longer... you really should keep more abreast of your enemies foibles, Cheung."
"Enemies?" the word genuinely surprised the man, clearly. "Why use such a disagreeable word? I thought we were... amiable companions if not as yet, friends."
"I wonder what Moran and Byrne and all the rest thought?" Red asked cheerfully, brandishing his unfinished drink about with a flourish. "Do you think they shared the same erroneous misgivings as you yourself... right up to the time you stabbed them in the back, hopefully not literally, of course. It's not your style, is it?"
Cheung sensed trouble, his eyes darting frantically to his back up plan. The two men who had accompanied him on this auspicious occasion took their cue, weapons rapidly drawn.
Francis was close enough, for he had purposely made a show of placing his drink on a nearby table, which was very close to where he needed to be at this exact moment...
His arm shot out, the back of his elbow connecting full force with, companion number one's jawline.
The guys piece went flying and staggered back from the unexpected blow.
Things went rapidly downhill from there and the odd thing about it was, even though both men expected the deluge of violence, it still shook their foundations.
Red remembered thinking at the time, the day had started rather well considering the travesty of the preceding night's events... it appeared it would end in an entirely different manner.
Francis lamented on just how swiftly a person can turn on a dime. Cheung had seemed so amiably pleasant there for a moment... before things started to go sideways.
Liz could still feel the imprint of Red's mouth, she touched her lips tentatively wishing to hold the moment suspended in time and space.
She paced slowly in the quiet of the room which suddenly seemed cavernous without the presence of the three men she had come to cherish so much over the past couple months.
The nagging fear amplified with each passing moment. Her first instincts were to follow them. To try and assist in some way... some manner.
Silas would prevent her leaving though, she knew.
She was sick at heart. Would she feel this each and every time a 'business' meeting was called?
Could she live like this? In a constant state of anxiety and terror that the man she cared for on levels she couldn't begin to fathom... might not come back to her one day?
My God, that man had changed her entire perspective on... everything. Absolutely everything.
The relationship between them had grown in ways she could not have anticipated.
Red could evoke contentment simply holding her in his embrace; to have his total affection and love. She didn't only welcome it, she needed it. For the first time in her entire existence, she had found a secure harbor.
And its name was... Red Reddington.
How would she cope if she lost him...
Liz refused to finish the thought. She resumed her pacing, this time more intently.
It felt like she was standing in a precipice... on edge. She halted instantly, afraid to take another step...
This must be what it felt like; the emptiness, the hollow ache in one's heart when a woman stood on a pier before the man she adored shipped out to some unknown location, with no set time to return.
Not knowing if he would return at all.
How did all the wives and lovers during wartime stand these conflicting emotions? How did any military... law enforcement, firefighters... family cope?
Now that she was actually experiencing the turmoil, the problems seemed insurmountable.
Rubbing her temples to ease the building ache, Liz hugged her arms around her body to ward off the sudden chill which descended.
What if Red didn't return? What would she do? Where could she turn for solace... there could be no solace.
They had just begun their journey. So many things yet to experience together, so many things left to explore. She was suddenly overwhelmed, sitting hastily because her legs could not hold her upright.
"...Elizabeth?"
The woman started, shocked from her preoccupation. "Oh," she breathed easier, "Nora."
"What's wrong child?" the woman entered the room, concern on her face. "You're as white as a sheet."
Liz knew she couldn't just sit here and wait. That much was crystal clear.
"Red and I had a little tiff," she fibbed, her conscience tugging at her, "plus he left his briefcase." she grimaced slightly, "I suppose it's stupid to want to go apologize... clear the air? I can use the briefcase as an excuse..."
Nora relaxed, "Communication is key to a good, solid foundation in any relationship." she mused wisely. "We could certainly make the effort but what about..." Nora gestured to Tom's position out front, "and too, Silas watches you like a hawk."
Liz lifted a subdued look, "Nora, surely we're smart enough... together, to work around these obstacles."
Hurriedly finding a solution, Liz scurried to her room, grabbing her weapon and other necessities before meeting Nora in the kitchen.
Nora checked the outside area motioning Elizabeth to follow her lead.
Moments later, Liz was in the back seat floorboard, crouched low with Nora pulling out the gate, waving casually to the posted guard.
Neither woman noticed the forgotten briefcase.
"Where did all these wahoos come from?"
Red and Francis hid behind a couple of ornate pillars, dodging shards of shattered vases and bar glasses as they burst around them.
"More to the point," Red chanced a peek around the cover, firing off a well placed shot which took down another of Cheung's men when the guy vied for a better position, "where are our wahoos?"
Replacing his mag, Red checked on his companion, "You gonna live?"
The man pulled at his tie, wrapping it tightly about Francis' oozing leg wound.
"Yeah," Francis kept a running check on the opposition, "it just stings... a lot." he grimaced, squeezing his arm, stemming the blood flow as Red secured another make shift tourniquet with Francis' tie. "I swear to God, if anyone calls this a fucking flesh wound–"
Red noted Dembe to his left, firing a sharp volley before ducking back out of harm's way. A bullet hit the wall directly where he had been seconds before, shattering dry wall dust in its wake.
Red heard another grunt of pain and the heavy thump of a body fall. Dembe had made his last shot count... as always.
"Is anyone keeping a head count?" Red was serious. "These guys are multiplying like termites."
Red checked on the boy again, his eyes measuring the blood flow from Francis' wounds.
Francis had taken a hit when Cheung first pulled his gun, but it was Cheung's right hand man who had tagged Francis.
Red had offered cover fire, tugging the kid to safety but in the interim, Red had taken a shot meant for Francis. Cheung had grazed the older man in the side.
Another lucky shot, or unlucky depending on one's point of view, had entered Francis' leg before they reached the cover of the pillar.
They had been hunkered down in this relative place of safety now for about ten minutes, having been able to stave off any real advancement of Cheung's men.
There was a sudden lull in the mayhem.
"This can't be good." Red grunted, having stretched too far to check out the competitions intentions.
"You okay?" Francis picked up on the unwise move, glancing Red's way superficially.
Pressing against the wound on his side, Red offered a sour look. Well, that shirt and suit was toast.
"I'm okay," it hurt like hell though. He kept it to himself.
"Until Lizzy gets a hold of you." Francis chuckled his mirth, "You'll never hear the end of this one."
"It's a graze, nothing more." Red snapped. "I've had worse sunburns."
"Work on that delivery." Francis braced himself. He had seen movement out of the corner of his eye.
Red had never had anyone to answer to but himself. For a brief second, it annoyed him. That Lizzy would definitely be pissed. He hadn't listened to her warnings.
But it... was what it was. This was his norm. Which was a sad statement in itself, he supposed.
Yeah, she was going to be very pissed at him.
Then... why was he suddenly smiling? Why did he feel kind of warm inside? A surge of affection caused him to chuckle.
"Really?" Francis was concerned. He looked at the guy askew. "This isn't my idea of a good time but then..." he lobbed off a volley of shots, "it isn't my definition of a bad time either."
Red chuckled again for the man's statements. "Oh, Francis," he sighed more than heavily for his lot in life, "how do we get ourselves in these incidents?"
One of Silas' men broke a secure position to make a dash towards the side hall. A hail of bullets followed his trek but the guy was able to dive for the safety of the corridor.
Red wondered why the risk. He and Dembe had offered the requisite cover fire, of course, but–
A single shot rang out from the vicinity of the hall.
Dembe swiveled, weapon raised but there was no need for alarm. The assailant had almost managed to flank Dembe's position. Silas' man had seen the covert action, eliminating the threat.
Inclining his head, Dembe showed his gratitude to a slyly grinning comrade. The guard waved a nonchalant hand in reply.
Catching Dembe's attention, Red's eyes softened measurably, "Be more careful my friend." he whispered the hope, but knew Dembe had received the message loud and clear.
"We have to finish this..." Francis remarked in passing, "I didn't think it would take this long."
"I agree," Red did, glancing about the pillar.
Cheung had chosen the exact moment to do the same. Both men returned to cover automatically but Red now knew the bastard's location.
"I've had enough of this shit.." Red stepped, feet firmly planted, systematically emptying his ammo into the wall behind which Cheung had taken cover.
Plaster and dry wall gave way to the power of his weapon, large holes appearing with each blast of the gun he held. He blindly dropped the depleted mag, slapping a new one in its place before retaking his previous position.
"Nice grouping." Francis had been impressed. "Too much coffee this morning?" he had to give it to the guy. "I wouldn't want to be your Barista."
Red chuckled, "It wasted a perfectly good round, but hell... it relieved some tension." he checked the spot where Cheung had been, knowing he had missed the bastard completely.
"Well, it put the fear of God into the asshole... or it would have me." Francis mused. "But I shit my shorts at a scary movie..."
Red turned back, situating himself more comfortably, his eyes lifting casually to the distant hall. His eyes widened with genuine surprise.
"Fuck!" Francis has seen the approaching danger as well, his good arm lifting, taking steady aim.
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion suddenly. Intuitively, Red reacted of course, but his arm seemed inordinately heavy.
He sensed he would not be able to take a shot in time. Vaguely, he was aware of Francis' gun firing, a loud crack echoing in his ear.
Lifting himself, Red wished to meet the approaching menace head-on, just then noticing out the corner of his eye... Dembe's large frame was on the move.
Red was suddenly blinded by a bright flash. A shooting pain tore through his head.
The sound of the room became muted. Loud voices dulled to a distant murmur. A black void of creeping haze drifted closer and closer. Red pulled back from the ever advancing edge.
There was something he had to do...
You promised... his mind yelled at him sending a lancing pain through his skull.
"L_Lizabeth." he rasped the realization, a crystal clarity sharpened images.
People were talking to him. Angry voices, concerned voices. Panting with exertion, Red fought to open his eyes, to focus.
His body revolted, an unseen force beckoning him deeper into the chasm of darkness surrounding him.
Francis... Dembe... they would take care of her. The thought comforted, calmed. A profound peace descended. She would be... fine.
You promised!
A wracking burst of pain filled his senses. He lurched gratefully for the looming void of nothingness which awaited.
A startling white haze engulfed the man. He sank into the silent depths... waiting.
Images of a sweet, beautiful face swam mockingly about him. He tried to reach out... to touch the wondrous illusion.
He could not lift his arms.
Tears came to his eyes as he repeatedly willed his body to respond, but in the end, he had to give up the fight.
The lovely vision floated closer, taunting him.
... So this was hell.
How apropos.
It seemed to take forever, the drive over. Nora chatted away, offering motherly advice on how to fix the problem with a man.
Liz listened sporadically, a fixed smile on her face while keeping a running check on the cars behind them.
It wouldn't take Silas long to miss her and he would know instinctively where she was going.
She dreaded his anger, but her entire focus was on reaching Red. Suddenly the urge seemed paramount.
"Thank you so much, Nora," Liz pushed the passenger door open, stepping out. "I really appreciate your help."
"No, problem, hon." Nora smiled. "I have my phone if you need me."
"Red will bring me home, don't worry." Liz waved a cheerful farewell, walking up the paved slope of the drive.
Nora waited until the woman entered the unlocked gate and disappeared around the high foliage of bushes which hid the rest of the winding drive.
She hastily un-shouldered her pack, extracting her weapon, pocketing extra ammunition in her light weight jacket.
As she got closer to porch which was obscured by bushes, Liz noted a few bodies laying haphazardly close to the windows or the large oak doors.
Several moaned, some were abnormally quiet... she made a dash, expecting to be felled by a bullet any second.
One man, one she didn't know, lifted a hand out to her, his face contorted with pain. She ignored the gesture, moving forward.
The house was abnormally quiet.
Cracking the door open, she could see a portion of the tiled foyer, an entry table and a lovely landscape which hung above. The picture was askew, terribly so.
Kicking the bag out of her way, Liz inched closer to the gapped door, instantly assaulted by the stench of burnt gunpowder.
There was a metallic taste of blood in the air.
One sharp crack of a bullet frayed the silence.
She heard distinctive sounds of rapid movement and Francis' unmistakable outcry. It was filled with urgency and anguish.
Liz forgot all else, once again moving forward, her own body reacting to the emotional turmoil of Francis' voice.
Her first instinct was to call for back up. Her training kicking to the fore.
But this wasn't business. Francis' tone had told her as much.
This was personal.
Scanning the gigantic foyer rapidly, her eyes darting to archways and securely shut doors.
Out of nowhere, a man rushed in from her left, running rapidly to a place of concealment... from his point of view.
A Chinese man... an armed Chinese man.
Immediately adjusting her stance for a better shot, Elizabeth did not hesitate. She trailed the guy as he had run, opening fire when he reached the spot he had sought out.
She rushed to the fallen man, securing his piece in the waist of her jeans, her attention on her surroundings.
Liz arose, alarmed as the gunfire continued, but this time it seemed more selective... more focused.
Only one lone shot reverberated about the large Gallery just beyond the foyer.
Suddenly out of nowhere, another large man emerged from the terrace, his direction intent on the Great Room.
She had her weapon trained and steady when their eyes met.
The guy's weapon was by his side. She had the advantage... for the moment.
There was a tense, silent battle of wills.
She refused to look away from those stony, cold eyes.
The guy surprised her by slowly lifting his arms out to his side. He held his firearm by one finger, dangling in the air...
Her heart pounded with indecision, her palms sweaty. Was this one of Francis' people?
But... no, this guy was... Chinese.
Something changed in the man's eyes and she knew. The gun was rapidly turned about, he was making his move–
Liz pulled the trigger in rapid succession, not hesitating for one second even.
The man's face froze in a grotesque state of shock, his eyes losing their animosity. He slowly crumpled into a distorted heap, his weapon clacking to the expensive tiled floor.
She dropped low, inching the last few feet, grasping that gun, sliding it beneath a nearby table out of sight.
She hurriedly crawled to the first archway. The gun fire had originated here. She took a deep breath, chancing a peek around the corner of the entryway.
Her eyes skittered across body after body, each laying haphazardly about the elegantly decorated room in various positions and placement.
Francis and Dembe were crouched, huddled around something she could not make out.
Dembe was on the walkie-talkie, his face grave, the dark eyes alert and scanning. He lifted his arm, gun trained before cursing his pique.
Liz had never heard the man speak a profanity.
"Dammit, Elizabeth." he lowered the weapon rapidly, pointing it safely away.
Francis turned, jerking his attention, his expression one of disbelief.
Elizabeth read the anguish on the whey-faced features. She scrambled up, running the short space. The woman pulled up short, her eyes falling downward. The blood drained from her face.
Her entire body grew numb... unresponsive. She stood, unable to do anything more.
Red lay there, still and unmoving. A hideously ever growing pool of blood billowed out in stark red patterns on the otherwise spotless marble floor.
Dembe wrenched her hard, "Get down!" he growled as a couple shots hit the wall behind their position.
Impulsively covering Red's body with her own, she felt Francis' bulk literally fall over her crouched position.
Dembe took down the imminent threat with a well placed shot.
Frantically accessing the situation, she fired off two shots. One missed its intended target, but the other hit spot on.
The man grasped his neck, staggering into the crossfire now taking place. Bullets riddled his body as he stumbled almost comically, falling face first into a glass coffee table.
Unlike in the movies, the tempered glass did not shatter. The guy lay on the cracked glass, having shoved the decorative bronze globe to the floor.
It broke apart from its base, the globe rolling lazily over to the marble fireplace. The sound bit at Liz's nerves which were already stretched taut.
Grasping at his pant leg, Francis produced his spare firearm, his face a mask of livid fury.
Protectively cradling Red's body, Liz's eyes scanned his chalky features with open alarm.
"Red..." she whispered brokenly, "my, God!" she kissed his cold forehead lovingly. "Dear, Lord."
"Red's gonna kick your ass!" Francis spat venomously, chancing a glance her way. "And if he doesn't... Dembe will."
Dembe's impassive features took in the scene, nothing more.
"He'll have to stand in line." she wrapped her jacket up, bundling it gently against Red's head, easing the flow of blood.
Red gasped sharply.
"Oh, Red..." she held back her terror and tears, "please stay with me!"
The man coughed slightly and his head exploded. Squeezing his eyes tightly, he fought the rising nausea and pain.
"Don't you dare leave m-me!"
That voice...he knew that sweet voice. As far as hallucinations went, this one wasn't half bad. If he was dying, doing so with the sound of the woman's voice in his ear was as close to heaven as he was ever going to get.
The man fought, struggling valiantly, the white haze dissipating somewhat.
Heavy metal scrapped across the floor as Liz slid the extra Glock she had procured to Francis who had run out of ammunition... finally.
The woman ignored shot after shot which zoomed past as she worked frantically to stop the loss of blood from Red's head wound.
Windows shattered, bullets tore into the fabric of chairs and couches.
She was focused on only one thing, there was nothing else. She glanced about frantically seeking out something, anything which would be of use. Her clothing was useless. It was too thin to staunch such a flow.
Dembe changed positions, his expert placement clearing an over-growing path in the rapidly dissipating opposition.
Francis limped gingerly forward as his cover fire aided Dembe's intentions.
Liz glanced at the opened door to the back. A dead man lay in her path. The guy had a head wound too, along with other countless bullet wounds. His blood had long since ceased to flow.
What was in that room? Was there something to help Red? Scrambling to her feet, Liz slid in Red's blood as she bolted for the open door.
The gunfire seemed to be receding. Had Dembe and Francis managed to drive the others back? When would the medical team arrive? Where was Mr. Kaplan?
All these thoughts flooded her consciousness. She threw open drawers, searching for something she wouldn't find. She was wasting precious time.
The bathroom... her bathroom had all kinds of medical supplies.
She tried to remember the layout of the house, but at that moment, so rattled was the woman, she couldn't even remember the layout of her own home, much less Francis'.
A pair of powerful hands grabbed at her shoulders swiveling her about. She gasped, stumbling, clutching at a nearby wall.
"You're his woman!" a menacing growl filled her ears as a looming bulk neared. "He won't shoot if I have you as a shield," the hot breath fanned her faced, "will he!"
She was huddled in burly arms, physically forced to move along with the insistent shove of his body. Hustled down a long corridor, Liz noted the tight grip the guy held on his weapon. His knuckles were white with exertion.
The guy was scared shitless. She didn't give a damn. She had to get back to Red.
A shot rang out from nowhere and the guy's companion – the silent, surly one that had been paving the way, went down. The large medallion the man wore clanged hollowly on the floor.
The other guy had stopped in his tracks.
Both looked for the source, the one who had deftly put a bullet in the back of their companion's head.
Red lay on his side, breathing laboriously, eyes ice cold and empty of emotion. His gunsight was focused intently on Cheung's stricken face.
Cheung swiftly swung Elizabeth about, using her as promised... as a shield.
Elizabeth's gaze lay gently on Red's face.
"Let h-her..." Red's tone brooked no argument, as did the deadly look on his face, "...go."
"No," Cheung laughed harshly, "that is not going to happen."
"Yes," Liz whispered sacredly, "it is." Red needed her. He needed this all to end so the medical team could come in.
He needed Mr. Kaplan. She would make everything right again.
Lifting herself bodily, Liz kicked off the wall in the narrow hallway, sending both she and Cheung tumbling back. They careened off the opposite wall before crumbling to the floor in an awkward heap of limbs.
Throwing her arm back, her elbow caught soundly with the man's face full force. She was happy to hear the crunch as she connected squarely with the bridge of his nose.
He cursed loudly, but his hold on her was broken.
Red Reddington had somehow miraculously raised to his feet. Blood drenched his suit and face, running in rivulets down into the white collar of his shirt. His ankle weapon hung limply in unresponsive fingers.
A deathly quiet intentness was on his face.
Liz was fighting for all she was worth for Cheung had quickly recovered, grasping her waist, pulling her roughly down the dimly lit corridor.
For moment she could only think of Red. Frantically grabbing for a convenient doorframe, Liz strained against a superior strength.
"No!" she raged, her eyes constantly on Red's stumbled advancement. A vague memory flashed, she allowed her fingertips to release.
Cheung did not expect it and again, she was thrown to the floor as the man struggled to regain his feet under him.
It has to stop! Liz's inner voice screamed the urgency, Red needs medical attention!
Caught by the hair, she grimaced, her attention focused on what she about, she kicked, her heel landing with accurate precision in the most valuable area a man possessed.
Hearing the man's rasped intake of air, Liz kicked hard, once again connecting between his legs.
The man hunched over, groaning his agony.
Crossing the space in record time, she reached beneath the table, her fingers securing the illusive Smith and Wesson she had stashed earlier upon her entry to the house.
She turned back as Cheung staggered in his approach. She blindly emptied the clip, several of the shots going wild but one... one hitting a solid mark.
Cheung looked at her, his eyes raging. He raised his hunkered frame slowly.
Liz looked about, searching in vein for any deterrent she could use.
Cheung's face contorted as he moved forward.
Liz lifted the candle stick, ready for battle. "I'll beat your fucking brains out!" she was relatively certain of her declaration.
That eventually did not come to pass, unfortunately.
Red fired, placing a bullet in Cheung's other shoulder, the one Liz had missed.
The man stopped, his face masked... stunned.
Red looked at him for a long moment, silent communication passing between the two combatants.
"Should have," Red whispered lowly, "let her go." he fired again, hoping he shot correctly. His vision was doubled.
Cheung fell, nearly missing Liz's outstretched legs.
Blood trickled from the perfectly placed hole between his eyes.
Red pressed his hand into his throbbing head, collapsing into the nearby wall.
Kicking Cheung's body aside, Liz rushed to a slowly crumbling Red Reddington. She got to his side just in time to cushion his fall.
She struggled with his weight. "I'm here," she panted from the exertion of the past few minutes, "I'm here, Red."
The movement jostled Red's head, shaking his foundation. His brain swam with the motion, magnifying his nausea to uncontrollable levels. He blindly felt for something to grab hold of, something solid to stop the cresting waves of queasiness rolling in his stomach.
The light eyes were clearly trying to focus. "Find... cover."
"We're okay," she hoped as much, "it seems to be out back for now." She looked around for cover anyway.
How was she going to move him? She was terrified. He was covered in so much blood. His skin was ice cold, he was trembling from head to toe.
It shook her mentally to see him to stricken.
Liz was pondering her options as she fervently prayed for guidance and assistance. Her prayers seemed to go unanswered however.
Two looming shapes filled the arched doorway, Liz twisted having heard their approach. Shielding Red, Liz moved closer giving the newly arrived gunmen a smaller target.
Their weapons were pointed and for one brief second, time seemed to stand still.
Her own Glock was left by Cheung over by the Gallery table... Red's gun, she could not reach in time.
She closed her eyes, embracing the man tightly, "It's okay," she suddenly realized, "it really is," she whispered for the man alone, "we're together."
She prepared herself for the bullet's impact, her body tensing slightly. The woman's lips gently brushed the man's temple.
Two shots rang out, Liz jumped, her arms tightening about Red's slumping shoulders.
She felt no pain, no heat... nothing. She swirled her head about, her senses on high alert.
Both assailants lay on the floor, their bodies blocking the entry. She stared at them, unable to assimilate the proceedings as yet.
A mammoth shadow appeared to take the fallen men's place. This one practically blocked out the sun which showed brightly outside the cool interior of the Gallery.
"I ought to ring that little neck."
She knew that brusque voice, her eyes desperately trying to adjust as the giant moved closer. She sat cradling Red, her eyes large and vacant.
"Move the hell aside." she scrambled out of the way, helping Silas lay the man flat, easing Red's legs to raised position.
People began to rapidly filter in. Men with stretchers, people in scrubs. Then with breathing machines... supplies.
A woman knelt beside Red inserting a needle into his arm. Another placed an oxygen mask over his face. Men lifted him effortlessly. Everyone was speaking at once.
It was controlled chaos.
Silas stood aside, his face grim... set. Dembe was suddenly there, walking alongside the stretcher. He bent, saying something to the unresponsive individual.
Liz realized Red was being taken from her, she bolted forward.
Silas pulled her up short, "Let them do their thing."
She pushed hard on his grip, "Let me–"
"Elizabeth..."
The woman halted in her antics, seeking out the calm, collected voice.
"I have him."
"Mr. Kaplan," Liz breathed her relief, tears coming to the fore.
"Bring her over in a while." Kaplan directed Silas. "I'll call you."
"No!" Liz pulled away, rushing to the woman. "I have to be with him. I have to."
Kaplan relented, walking away. Liz turned frantic eyes her guard's way.
"Get in the damned car." he snapped but Liz sensed the anger was not entirely for her.
Liz dismissed the sensation, one objective in mind.
Francis stood slumped by the black SUV, a defeated look on his face. The large vehicle was crowded, not one space available.
"Francis!" she turned stricken eyes, finally noting his wounds. "Jesus, what happened to you?"
Francis waved the question aside, side stepping the woman entirely to return his interest to what was transpiring inside that damned car.
Liz did the same, both waiting despondently. Both were secretly terrified, trying desperately not to let on to the other.
Neither had ever experienced such ... helplessness.
Red Reddington was larger than life. Always so strong. They were the ones who he took care of and guided, not the other way around.
This was wrong. So damned wrong and backwards. Francis wished more than anything...
He had vacated the SUV to make room for the newly arrived patient but Red had grasped his hand in passing.
"T-Take..." Francis strived to decipher the slurred words over all the noise of the medical personnel, "care of..."
Francis had panicked, getting the jest of the weakly proclaimed request. "Don't you dare leave her!" he had grated the statement, "Don't you fucking dare!"
Red was saying his 'good-byes' and it shook Francis to his very core.
The ice cold fingers held to Francis' forearm, "...Prom..."
"I don't fucking promise." Francis had shook his head vigorously, the implication of Red's words, scaring the living shit out of him,. "Looks like it's up to you then, doesn't it."
Red smiled weakly.
Francis blinked furiously at the threat of tears, "You bastard! Don't you put this on me!" his mouth trembled, a rush of emotions suffocating him. "We both know how shallow and useless I am where women are concerned."
Red's eyes fluttered open then shut.
Medics had tried to sever the conversation, they needed to work.
"She's not strong enough yet." Francis offered one last ditch effort. "She can't take it... you're leaving her to the stalker guy. She's needs you... not me."
And then Kaplan had kicked his ass out of the vehicle.
"Let me in there!" Liz wanted to be by Red's side no matter what. "Make a hole!"
Kaplan motioned and miraculously a spot opened up.
Liz slithered through the air tubes and other medical apparatus, her hand instantly gripping Red's. "Red! I'm here!" she lifted her voice over the din.
Red felt the warmth spread through his body. Lizzy was here. He could sense her presence which calmed his heart.
Silas came alongside Francis, his eyes shrewdly observant.
Francis lifted a haunted gaze. "She's scared." he motioned. "Fuck... I'm scared."
Silas' blue-green eyes fixated on the distraught man, nodding minutely.
"This is my fault." Francis stated dismally. "I should have never–"
"Stop right there." the guard cut the accusations short. "This is no more your fault than last nights fiasco was Red's."
Francis took a measure of comfort in the words.
"If I thought it was your fault, I'd fucking tell you." Silas lay a large hand on the man's shoulder, returning his interest to the proceedings at hand.
Francis felt better... but he didn't know why.
"Ray..." the soft whisper washed over the man. Red cursed the white fog.
Stay the hell away from me, he ranted, I'm not ready to go yet!
"I know you can hear me." Liz felt as much. She leaned close, her face inches from his, her lips brushing his unresponsive ones. "I can't do this without you." she pleaded.
Red's brows furrowed.
"You promised." Liz wept freely. "You gave me your word and I believed you." her voice shook. "You go to sleep now and you get better but," she swallowed hard, "you come to me then, do you hear me?"
Silas took his cue from Kaplan who had motioned at Liz, "We have to let them take care of him now." gentle hand encompassed her shoulders.
Liz shook free, "He wants me here!" she snapped.
Kaplan shook her head.
Red liked her spunk. He felt a surge of pride.
"We're in the way." Silas' voice was crisp.
"No!" Liz grated. "Just drive. Get him where ever you have to go!"
In his minds eyes, Red was tracing those delicious little lips with his fingers. He was capturing her face in his hands, kissing that pouty mouth.
Gritting his jaw, Silas wrapped his arms about her torso, bodily lifting the woman. In seconds, he had deposited her soundly beside Francis, the guards expression a foreboding one.
The distraught female had fought with all her strength, kicking and screaming her outrage. But in the end, it was a fruitless struggle. Silas held firm while the medical team took over.
"I'm going to kill you, Silas!" Liz was proving a handful. "With my bare hands!"
Red's mouth curved into a gentle smile.
His little spitfire was staying true to the course... good luck there, Silas.
Kaplan frowned hard at the totally unexpected gesture. The smile still played about the man's mouth.
"She waits for you." Dembe too, had seen Red's response, understanding it perfectly.
"You must hurry back." he murmured soothingly. "Silas is only one man... how long can he hope to hold out, my friend?"
Red's smiled softened.
How long indeed.
Silas' gruff impatient demeanor settled the woman somewhat. "We're going with them!" he hastened to explain his actions. "There is no room... Francis needs medical attention."
Liz stopped struggling instantly, seeking out the younger man who had stood so solemnly still beside her.
She noticed the blood soaked linen of his suit, the way he listed so off kilter.
"Oh, Francis... I'm so sorry!" she was miserable. "Let me help you to the car."
Francis started to object but Silas' curt shake of the head warned the man of his folly. Liz needed something to focus on besides Red. He did not object when Liz took his good arm, offering a shoulder to lean on.
Red allowed the mist to wash over him, the sooner he did whatever he had to do, the sooner he could return to her.
She waits for you.
Blackness thankfully descended.