Staring down over the balcony's edge, Liz smiled as she watched guests dancing and bouncing from one amusement to another.
Men showed off their prowess at the games, their ladies offering kisses when handed a prize won in hopes of wooing them... all enjoying the frivolity the holiday afforded.
It had been such a wonderful couple days.
After their engagement, both Liz and Red felt a deep-seated need to be together... seeking each other's company, excluding all intrusions.
They spent the previous day in bliss filled solitude; conversing about nothing in particular, they read books in comfortable, peaceful silence... or made love.
Thinking back on those moments brought a flush of pleasure to Liz's cheeks.
Today, they finally emerged from their shell and played. Mark had seen to it a carnival be set-up for everyone's amusement. Independence Day was going to be fun this year.
Glancing over her shoulder at the mountain of prizes behind her, a smile touched Liz's face as she recalled Red gallantly handing her gifts in hopes of being rewarded a kiss.
There were moments out on that thoroughfare where his sweet, gentle administrations made her want to reward him in so many more intimate ways, truth told.
Red's willingness to participate and enjoy the day had been unexpected... his playfulness contagious.
While walking the grounds, Red regaled her with memories of family trips to Palisades Park in his youth and how he trolled for girls at the Pike when the family relocated to California in his teens.
She would have never dreamed Red Reddington would willingly step foot on a silly, mundane amusement park ride.
Not only had Red gamely joined in the fun of the day, they lost a good hour on the Ferris Wheel and in the Tunnel of Love kissing one another like teenagers on their first date.
They rode the ride over and over simply to experience the giddy emotional state. So lost to their romantic kisses, neither noticed Mark wave the operator to bypass their cart and continue the ride, time after time.
As the sun slipped far down under the horizon, the couple slow danced under the twinkling lights of the jovial atmosphere.
When Liz didn't think the day could be more special or memorable, Red secured a boat and took her to a secluded part of the lake far away from the lights of the hotel to enjoy the enormous fireworks display Mark tried to surpass each consecutive year.
There out under the blanket of stars and virtual darkness, Red had once again made love to her out in the humid Texas heat as the fireworks exploded overhead.
Yes, the weekend had truly been one for the books. A memory to be cherished.
"Penny for your thoughts," Red murmured quietly, an inner instinct telling him not to disturb the moment.
Glancing back over her shoulder, Liz smiled softly as his dark silhouette neared. His arms encircled her waist, his warmth enveloping her senses.
"Just thinking about how happy I am," she snuggled back into his chest, "and how much I love you."
"You're just saying that because I won you a stuffed puppy," Red teased, "... and a new tablet."
"Well... yeah," she giggled when the man playfully nipped her neck in retaliation for the snarky comeback.
Tightening his arms, Red placed a soft kiss to her shoulder.
"I hope you understand how very much I have enjoyed being here with you." His jaw worked restlessly, hoping he properly conveyed how important this was to him. "I needed this time with you, Elizabeth."
"I needed it too, Red," she confessed quietly, "on so many levels."
Gradually gravitating to their room, they decided to call it a night and retire for the evening.
Liz turned back the bedding, her muscles already limbering up in anticipation of stretching out in that luxurious bedding.
"Don't forget," Red said, turning down the lights, "I have that meeting in a couple hours."
"I didn't forget," she sighed, laying back into the welcome embrace of the mattress. "How long do you think it'll take?"
Crawling into the bed, Red relished the comfort instantly, closing his eyes. He smiled when Lizzy quietly curled up against him, running searching fingers over his torso.
"An hour, at most." Red assured, stroking gentle fingers along Lizzy's back. "Or at least, that's when I'm making my exit."
Shifting comfortably against one another, Red was surprised to feel his eyes grow heavy within seconds.
"Red?" Liz whispered.
"Uh, hum?" he murmured, resting his cheek against her dark hair.
"I had a good day," she kept her voice low.
"I'm glad," he smiled softly, pleasured beyond scope by her words. "I had a good day as well."
"I love you," she murmured sleepily, snuggling to Red's side. She sighed happily when the man pulled her form closer.
"I love you too, baby." he said, kissing the crown of her head.
Jolting awake, Red grabbed for the phone vibrating against his hand, silencing it. Lifting his head off the pillow, he blearily blinked at the sudden bright light of the phone's screen, groaning his despair.
It was a little after two in the morning, later than he expected.
"Yeah?" he murmured quietly, smoothing a hand over Lizzy's hip when the woman stirred.
"Raymond, the meeting starts soon." Dembe's crisp tone shook the cobwebs from Red's sleep-addled brain.
"Give me a few minutes," Red sighed, shutting down the phone.
Falling back into the comfort of his pillow, he rubbed a hand across his face, rubbing his weary eyes.
At least he got an extra hour's sleep he didn't expect, that was something.
Easing away from Elizabeth's warm body cuddled in the blankets, Red slid gently from the bed, glancing back at the woman.
Mewling quietly, Liz turned in search of him, already missing his presence. Even in her sleep state, she sensed his scent in the vicinity, but couldn't find him. Grasping his pillow in lieu of his warmth, she snuggled into it, settling almost instantly.
Brushing a gentle caress across her cheek, the man sighed his lot in life... turning to the closet.
Quickly dressing and handling a few personal items, he stood over the woman, straightening his tie.
"Lizzy..." he murmured, shaking her gently so as to not startle her.
Slitting her eyes, Liz blinked sleepily at Red as he sat beside her. "You're going?"
He leaned, bracketing her with his arms, "Yes," he replied softly, "do you need anything before I go?"
"No," she stretched lazily, "...I'm good."
"Here's your phone, hit one if you need me." he slid the phone under her pillow as the woman hummed her answering reply and snuggled into the blankets he pulled them up around her.
Leaning further, he kissed the curve of her neckline. "Sleep well, baby."
Knowing she had grown as fond of the wind sound as he, he pushed the balcony doors ajar.
The ghostly diaphanous curtains rippled in the gentle breeze as he dropped the door stops, keeping them in place.
Closing the bedroom door behind him, Red walked into the main room, grabbing his keycard and phone as he made his way into the corridor.
Dembe waited on the other side, holding a file at the ready.
"Agent Ressler called," Dembe fell in step beside Raymond as the man perused the file.
"If he thinks I'm cutting my vacation short," Red grumbled, "he's sorely mistaken."
"Edward Costa was murdered." Dembe said.
Slowing in his steps, Red shook his head after a moment. "Carver?"
"It would appear so, yes." Dembe confirmed, holding his phone aloft.
Red scanned the blood-laden images, his expression a staid one. "Did they say how Carver slipped past the FBI detail on him?"
"The Agent was posted at the front of the building," Dembe took the phone, continuing in their trek. "Unbeknownst to him, Carver entered through the parking garage at the rear of the building."
"How did they find Edward?" Red scowled.
"In their surveillance, they learned Edward was to have a ten o'clock appointment." Dembe related. "When he didn't emerge... they went in and found him."
"So they let Edward die," Red summed up the story, "which is... no great loss to society, mind you." he granted. "But they also let Carver slip through their fingers."
"Glen is backtracking footage of the area," Dembe relayed the pertinent information, "to ascertain where Carver came from or where he went." the man offered a negligible shrug of his shoulder.
Pushing through the doorway, both continued towards Mark's residence.
"Glen said he will relate any findings which may be of use as soon as anything becomes available." Dembe assured wanly.
Red arched a cynical brow. "Yes, let me just hold my breath waiting for that to happen..."
It was going to be a long night...
Stirring quietly, Liz blinked heavy-lidded eyes, snuggling into her pillow. Shifting her attention to the blue numbers on the clock beside her, she frowned softly as she noticed the time.
Red had left only a little under an hour ago.
Yawning, she stretched slowly, taking stock of her surroundings.
Listening to the room, she heard nothing but the wind ruffling the curtains and the quiet rustle of the sheets.
Had she needed the bathroom? Laying still a moment, her frown deepened when she found... that wasn't an issue.
So... why the hell was she awake? She really hated when she woke for no reason, especially when she'd been sleeping so soundly.
Since sleeping with Red, the annoyance had tapered, then stopped completely. If she was awake when Red was home, there was trouble in the air.
Only when Red was gone...
"Oh," she hummed her understanding.
Red wasn't here.
She must have turned in her sleep, felt his presence missing... and woke up. Snuggling back into the covers, she willed her body to relax... hoping beyond hope she would drift off once more, if not float in a dreamlike state, until Red's return.
Hope sprang eternal as she heard the sound of the bedroom door click open, then close and light footsteps traversing the room.
A dark shadow of a man neared the bed, looming large in the room.
Liz's hackles rose, a sixth sense kicking in...her defenses on high alert; the sensation shocking her to the core.
This intruder into her private sanctuary was not Red Reddington!
Inching slowly backwards, she held her breath as the figure casually sat beside her, leaning into her position.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she screamed at her brain to wake up from the nightmare she was in; but the feeling in her gut told her... a nightmare was about to begin.
Reeling back, she hit the headboard. "What do you want?" her tone sounded firm. "The jewelry is in the safe... downstairs."
"I have no use for your jewelry..."
Liz immediately recognized the voice, her stomach churned chaotically... the overwhelming nausea instantaneous.
"...Your flesh, on the other hand," Carver chuckled darkly. "If you could spare an inch or more, well.. I'm always up for that."
Swallowing around her suddenly dry tongue, Liz controlled the urge to vomit, just barely.
"I've looked forward to meeting with you again," the man's rasp sent shivers coursing through her body. "Our last tête-à-tête went by so quickly... I felt a little let down, you?"
Surreptitiously glancing at the dresser, Liz damned herself for not replacing her weapon in the nightstand.
It was habit, move the gun from the nightstand to an inconspicuous place when housekeeping arrived to avoid upsetting anyone.
Now it was biting her in the ass.
Rule one of confronting a suspect, keep him talking. She clutched the sheet closer to her nakedness, sensing the psycho's eyes on her every move.
Judging the distance between herself and the needed weapon, she cleared her throat.
"R-Red will be back any minute," she fought to control the tremor in her voice.
"Wonderful," the disturbing purr in the man's tone rankled, "two for the price of one. What a steal!" he appeared impressed with the notion.
"He'll have Dembe with him as well," she hoped at least the large man would stay beside Red until his return.
"Then we better get to it, hum," Carver grinned, unfurling a long case. "Let's become... reacquainted, shall we."
Bolting from the bed, Liz hurried for the dresser drawer, crying out her anguish as the man caught her hair in his fist, bringing her back against his hard chest.
"You know how this will end," the man's hot breath brushed her neck, "let's not waste time."
Grimacing her pain, Liz yelped when the man pulled roughly on her hair, sending her backwards in a careening trajectory.
She felt a frisson of fear when her head hit the headboard with a resounding crack... though thankfully; she retained consciousness.
If one could be thankful in such a predicament.
"You have spirit," Carver offered a sinister chuckle, "but it won't help you here... and quite frankly, it's a nuisance on occasion."
Quickly taking stock of the options available to her, Liz sought a weapon... of any sort.
"We both know... had Reddington not interrupted last time," the man grasped her, pulling her roughly towards him, "... I'd be wearing you as a belt right now."
Struggling and kicking with all her strength, Liz felt a certain satisfaction when she delivered a well-placed blow to the man's side with the heel of her foot.
Grunting from the impact, her attacker caught her arms, leaning his weight into them before grappling for his waistline.
Struggling under his hold, Liz's breath caught as a cold, hard rectangle hit her side.
The phone!
Her flip phone! A literal lifeline!
Yanking her arm free from Carver's hurtful grasp, the woman frantically fumbled to retrieve the cell.
"Settle down..." the man's tone held a resigned impatience. "Why do they always panic?" he muttered almost dejectedly.
Liz sucked in a sharp breath as the distinct pressure of a cold blade raked her throat teasingly.
"That's better." the soothing approval was sickening. "This saves so much time and effort."
Controlling the tremor in her fingers, Liz slowly opened the phone, keeping it from sight.
Mentally visualizing the keypad, Liz slid her fingers methodically along the raised bumps, measuring the buttons she needed to push.
She prayed she hit the correct ones...
She prayed like she had never prayed before...
Liz just prayed.
Red sat, drinking his second tumbler of Scotch, impatiently listening to Louis drone on about shipping route territories.
Could this meeting be more terminally boring? The man doubted the fact.
Red contemplated snapping the speaker's neck with practiced ease. The thought made him content as he visualized the feat.
Searching the room, Red moodily wished for even a small distraction... any distraction.
The slight vibration of his phone traveled up his arm, pulling his attention away from the tedious meeting. He grinned as, Hot Bunz Bakery, splashed across the caller ID screen.
Ah, his own little distraction was calling. Blessed be the saints who took pity on him.
"If you will excuse me," Red made his polite apologies to the men beside him, amused for the obvious envy they felt.
Flicking the phone open, his brow furrowed as he heard the muffled rustle of fabric.
"...Lizzy?" he cupped the phone to better hear the odd sounds it emitted. "Are you there?"
Red scowled over his shoulder, searching out Dembe. He turned his head towards the sound of the phone as he tried to decipher what was going on. He waved an urgent hand to his friend and ally, his senses tingling... something was amiss.
Cupping his hand around the mouthpiece, he directed the sound of his voice, "Lizz–"
"Let me go!"
Red jerked at the sound of Lizzy's angered voice screaming through the speaker.
He was on his way before he even realized as much.
"Oh, for goodness sake... just relax... and enjoy." a man laughed hollowly. "...I know I will."
Red startled, stopping in his tracks as a deep masculine voice echoed over the line.
A jolt of panic surged through Red, having comprehended the quality of malice the voice held.
"Elizabeth!" Red bellowed into the phone, only to hear the struggle grow in volume. "Fuck!" he cursed vehemently, his senses reeling.
Turning to the distraction, all in the room fell silent, curious as to the developing problem.
Shifting wild, dangerous eyes to Dembe, Red yanked the door beside him open, slamming it into the wall in his haste.
Bolting from the room, he barely took note of multiple feet hitting the floor behind him... all followers hot on his heels.
"That's good," Carver nodded approvingly, "...now you understand how it must be."
Liz grimaced as the man trailed the knife slowly down her neck and between her breasts, following the slope of the giving flesh.
"Don't worry..." Carver smiled a crooked grin. "It'll be over soon."
The man offered a nonchalant shrug. "Well, in any case... this will be a fond, blissful memory for me, at least." he assured.
"On a high note," Carver's tone allowed empathy, "you'll die from shock before you know it. Won't that be interesting."
Images of training with Silas and Joe flooded Liz's mind at a dizzying pace, her heart hammering in her chest.
Glancing down at the blade's position, she swallowed hard, gathering her courage...
She hastily gripped the man's wrist with her left hand, shoving the blade away, her fingers tightening about his thumb with her right hand, digging unforgivably into the man's nerve endings.
Locking her elbows, Liz twisted her upper body hard, wrenching the man's wrist about into a painfully awkward slant, offsetting Carver's balance.
Struggling upright, she shoved hard against at his large torso, causing the man to stumble back into the nightstand.
"You little bitch..." Carver spat, throwing his arm out in an attempt to catch himself.
The lamp beside him wobbled precariously before falling to the ground with a loud crash.
Running for the dresser, Liz fumbled with the drawer as she grasped a vase in the other hand, hurling it at the man's head, for he recovered remarkably fast and was upon her position within seconds.
Cursing his anger, Carver turned at the last moment, growling as the heavy crystal hit hard against his cheek. The impact stunned for a moment, pain radiating through his head.
Staggering off the wall, Carver made a sweeping grab from the woman before she jumped back from his reach. Stumbling in his footing, the man caught himself on the dresser's top before he fell.
"If you think I'm going quietly," Liz yelled, throwing another projectile at the man's head, "you're fucking wrong, asshole!"
Hastily glancing about, Liz grasped the large dresser mirror, yanking it hard her way.
Baring her teeth, Liz hissed her triumph as the heavy glass toppled forward, falling atop the man's back, shattering on impact.
Brought to down by the powerful hit, Carver crumbled to his knees, blindly grasping for a hold of the dresser beside him.
Ripping the dresser drawer free, the heavy slot dangled in Liz's hand, scattering its contents on the floor.
"Dammit!" she cursed her anger, frantically searching the darkened room for her fallen weapon.
Her eyes darted to Carver's enormous bulk, struggling to get off the ground.
Feeling the weight of then the drawer in her hand, Liz lifted the object high overhead... splintering the wood case against her attacker's skull.
Reaching, she grasped a long-stemmed lamp in hand, yanking it from its perch. Growling her discord, she forcefully pulled it towards her, snapping the cord from its base. All her anger 'coming to bear'.
Lashing out, she caught the man across the shoulders with a brutal swipe, swinging the lamp in a wide arch, the stem slashed Carver's face.
Spitting blood from his mouth, the man snarled his rage, lunging for Liz's legs.
Hastily kicking out, she sucked a breath through her clenched teeth as a shot of pain tore through her foot, which connected with the hard bone of Carver's arm.
Staggering back out of his reach, the woman stumbled on a pillow, losing her balance before hastily managing to catch herself on the bench.
Quickly stepping over the prone figure, Liz tried to make her escape.
Just as he had before, Carver caught her ankle in a tight hold... stopping the woman dead in her tracks.
A sudden rush of bile crept into Liz's throat for the phantom hold that haunted her for months, gripped her tightly in this reality... a startling reminder of their previous exchange.
"I broke it once," the man panted, increasing his grip, "...I will gladly do it again."
Searching her mind quickly for the proper reaction to such a threat, Liz's brain swirled with possibilities.
The man chuckled a dark, sinister laugh... slowly struggling to his knees.
The grip on her leg loosened somewhat in his attempt, allowing a split second for Liz to spin just enough to bring her knee up hard into the man's face.
She yelped for the harsh, stinging impact on her flesh, but felt a hot wash of tears in her eyes for the overwhelming joy she felt to have inflicted any injury at all.
The rush of elation gave way all too soon as Carver lashed out, sweeping his leg out instinctively, hitting her across the still weak ankle.
Crying out her pain, Liz gasped a vehement curse as her knees gave way. Her shoulder hit the solid, unforgiving floor, clacking her teeth together painfully.
Hurriedly crawling over the woman, Carver leaned his arm into Elizabeth's chest as he grappled for his waistline.
"I'm gonna enjoy skinning your ass." he panted his exertion. "This is getting to be monotonous! They don't pay me enough for shit like this!" he vowed.
Liz frantically fought, throwing punches to the man's face and torso whenever an opening presented itself.
"I may not get out of this alive," she seethed her rage, "... but neither will you... Help!"
She screamed the word at the top of her lungs with each breath taken.
The scream for help turned to a blood-curdling one as she felt the man's blade pierce her thigh.
"Fuck..." Carver groaned his delight, "I love that feeling!"
Sobbing her anguish and pain, Liz struggled to ward off the attack, though not inflict further pain to herself.
Like a needle threading a piece of linen, Carver grinned maliciously as he slid the smooth blade slowly, yet methodically, through layers of skin and muscle... deaf to the woman's tormented screams.
Never in her life had Liz experienced such searing agony. The blade sat just under her flesh, the flat surface rubbing unforgivably against nerves and tendons.
A wave of terror stole her breath as she caught sight of the bastard's face... and the look of pure euphoria he was experiencing. Worse yet, his eyes... his eyes were an inhuman, inky black void.
She believed in the course of her career; she had seen evil.
It wasn't until this moment that she realized nothing compared to the evil staring blankly back at her... this was a demon in his purest form.
"Red's gonna fucking kill you!" Liz cried out, fighting to grasp the weapon infiltrating her leg.
It was such a useless gesture, for the pain was too intense... too brutal. All she could hope was she didn't pass out from the torturous agony.
Carver laughed, "Reddington can't help you now."
Concentrating on placing one foot before the other, Red ran as swiftly as his legs could carry him... all the while, listening to Lizzy's struggle.
"Don't worry...it'll be over soon. Well, in any case..." Red strained to hear the words, "you'll die from shock before you know it."
The threatening words ran along Red's spine, chilling his blood.
Increasing his speed across the smoke deck, Red glanced up, catching a glimpse of the darkened window of their bedroom.
The beautiful imagery of the curtains billowing in the breeze betrayed the horror occurring behind them.
Never had he felt so powerless to be so near... but so damn far away. He wished for nothing more than the ability to transport himself to that spot where Lizzy suffered so heinously, this very instant in time.
"You little bitch..."
Red felt a surge of relief as the man bitched a sharp curse followed by the sounds of a vicious struggle ensuing... alerting Red, Lizzy was putting up a hell of a fight.
"If you think I'm going quietly, you're fucking wrong, asshole!"
Having finally heard the woman's voice, Red stumbled in his run... beyond grateful to hear the anger and determination in her tone.
The loud report of shattering glass crashed painfully in Red's ear. The sound of a muffled oath and low groan of pain alerted him... Lizzy's attacker was on the receiving end of the woman's wrath.
The more Lizzy struggled, the more time she bought Red to get to her and help.
"Dammit!"
Red's breath caught for Elizabeth's angered curse. God, he needed to be there! What the fuck was happening? Faster... he had to go faster.
Rushing down the straightaway, pressing the phone hard against his ear, the man prayed fervently.
Grabbing the ornate handles of the French doors, Red yanked the heavy wood, forcing the upper locks from their latches, breaking them free from the solid oak jamb.
"I broke it once...I can gladly do it again." The caustic statement almost stopped Red's heart.
Carver!
Carver was in that room... with Elizabeth!
"Jesus! Help her..." Red muttered tightly, Lizzy's screams of protest echoing in his brain.
"Someone fucking help her!" he prayed ardently.
He grimaced at the jumbled sounds crackling in the speaker of his phone.
"I'm gonna enjoy skinning your ass."
"Dear God..." Red's fear, what terrified him most in the entire universe, was happening in sickening, vivid reality.
He wasn't going to get to her in time. He wasn't going to be able to...
He wasn't going to be there when Elizabeth needed him most...
"I may not get out of this alive, but neither will you! Help!"
The scream pierced his eardrum...
Choking on the air, Red's heart shattered as the sound of Elizabeth screaming in pain tore at his fucking soul.
"God... baby," Red fought the threatening wash of heat in his eyes, his world caving in around him.
"Fuck...I love that feeling!"
"You fucker!" Red spat; his disgust, rage, dread and terror coloring the moment.
"Red's gonna fucking kill you!"
"Reddington can't help you now."
"Like hell I can't!" Red disagreed wholeheartedly, pure venom in the gritted reply.
Skidding on the slick marble floor, Red's feet hit the stairs, rushing up two at a time, desperation fueling his brain and body.
It felt like his entire world had slowed to a crawl, his body moving through thick molasses.
He felt as if he were running through quicksand, the woman's screams urging him on.
It seemed he'd been running for hours on end, the stairs steeper and ongoing... a never ending obstacle mounting in his path.
Racing down the long corridor, Red could hear Elizabeth's screams increase in volume both through the phone... and as he neared.
Rounding the corner, he found a couple of men ramming their bodies unsuccessfully against his locked door in a bid to gain entry.
"Get security!" one yelled, attempting to ram the door yet again.
"This damned door won't give way!" another informed the newly arriving group of men.
"Move!" Shoving the man aside, Red hastily slid the card through the slot, ramming the door open.
The sounds of Elizabeth's cries of agony filtered through the pitch black suite as Red bolted for the source.
Finding the doors locked, Red took a step back and kicked, breaking the barrier apart.
Then everything shifted to odd angles...
Almost at a snail's pace, the doors swung open, revealing the tattered remnants of the bedroom. Broken vases, strewn pillows, and overturned furniture littered the floor.
Red felt the sudden urge to vomit as he saw Carver drag the knife sticking through Elizabeth's thigh, upward, cutting a clean slice through the woman's flesh with practiced ease.
Sobbing wretchedly, Liz hurried to grab the man's hand to stop the excruciating pain, her expression twisted into one of terror and agony.
"R-Red..." Liz wept freely, squeezing her eyes tight hoping to block the pain.
A fierce growl tore through Red's chest and throat as Elizabeth released a horrifying scream that made his hair raise on end.
Carver jerked his head upright, stopping the momentum of his knife as he noticed movement from the corner of his eye.
Red stared back at the bastard's bloodied face, all the terror he experienced... vanishing in the blink of an eye. A blinding rage came over him so powerful, Red's vision went black as he focused on nothing but his target.
Like a supernova, Red's rage flared incandescently when the woman's face broke out into a sweat and blanched of color as her head lolled with the desire to faint... but Lizzy refused, instead, fighting against the pain and petrifying fear.
The thought of what would happen were she to not retain consciousness was the most terrifying ordeal Red could imagine.
The need to sate his blood thirst crested when he saw the crimson tide rushing freely from the abuse inflicted by the disgusting sadist. The startling stain marring Lizzy's beautiful skin.
"You fucking son-of-a-bitch!" Red snarled his rage.
"Reddington," Carver's malevolent grin seemed to darken the already murky atmosphere, "so glad you could join us."
Taking a menacing step towards the prick, Red halted in his steps, his eye ticking its disgust as the asshole hastily slid the knife from Lizzy's leg without a care. Blood instantly gushed out the deep, gash of the wound.
"No...I wouldn't do that if I were you." Carver chuckled darkly, pointing the blade in Red's direction.
"God!" Liz yelped, hastily squeezing her thigh in a death grip when the asshole roughly rimmed the cut with probing fingers.
The storm within Red erupted in an untamed and violent explosion as the psychopath curved his fingers about Elizabeth's neck.
Staggering to his feet, Carver tightened his hold about the woman's neck, roughly pulling her from the floor, the knife never straying far from Liz's body.
"Looks who's here," Carver whispered loudly in Liz's ear. "You think he's gonna save you... or did he come to watch you die?"
"Watch," Liz gasped around the man's choking hold, "... you die."
Scoffing, Carver placed the blade to her throat, nicking the fragile skin. "I think you forget your position, my sweet." he sighed lightly. "I'm in charge here, remember."
Darting his attention away from the blood running down Elizabeth's leg; sickening visions of Carver slicing another woman's throat clean open and, without hesitation, suddenly inundated Red.
"What the hell do you want?" Red spat the question.
"Don't tell me you've gone senile, Reddington." Carver cocked his brow, jostling Liz as he did so. "Now, why do you think I'm here? I'm curious?"
"Why?" Red hastily darted his eyes between the man and the amount of blood Elizabeth was rapidly losing. "Why... are you here?" he amended, stalling for time and opportunity.
"It's not everyday I'm hired to handle someone of your... caliber," Carver gave credit where credit was due. "Even I was impressed when your name come up for discussion."
Hastily holding his frown of confusion, Red kept his eyes locked on the man across from him.
"So why not come after me?" Red wanted to know. "She has nothing to do with–"
"Oh, I think she's more involved than you let on," Carver tut scoldingly. "You seem most upset to find me here with your little... pet."
"That still doesn't answer my question." Red growled.
"Where is your head these days?" Carver goaded, kissing Liz's temple softly. "Considering this woman... is FBI."
Ignoring the gasp of shock of the men behind him, Red focused his attention where it was warranted.
"Oops," Carver craned his neck, staring beyond Red's position, "seems I let the cat out of the bag... sorry." he grinned accordingly. "Did you want to be the one to tell them?"
"Is there a point to this?" Red frowned critically.
"I was hired to skin you alive, yes," Carver grinned, "but nowhere in my contract did it stipulate... I couldn't fuck with the revered Red Reddington."
"So you filet her because you think it'll bother me?" Red played his part, his insides churning sickeningly
"You seem awfully upset by her little predicament." Carver reminded, tightening his hand around Liz's throat. "What am I to think, exactly?"
"Without her," Red drawled his anger, "... I lose my immunity, you idiot."
Red's fingers twitched at his sides, controlling the urge to go for the bastard. The only thing keeping him in line was the blade held precariously close to Lizzy's throat... and the trickle of blood the tip caused.
"I play informant for them for a complete year," Red seethed, "and keep her safe while doing so... I am granted full immunity."
"Oh," Carver laughed, "I think there's more to it than that...I mean, you are fucking her, aren't you?"
"Wouldn't you?" Red gestured to Elizabeth, more specifically, her body.
Carver glanced down at the woman's body, nodding after a moment. "Good point."
The edge of panic Red felt since the woman began to struggle to stay alert, tore at his psyche, making it almost impossible to concentrate on what he was attempting.
As the reality that Elizabeth was going into shock became more apparent, Red felt he may actually lose his sanity completely.
"Who hired you?" Red hurried things along.
"Oh, is it important," Carver shrugged carelessly. "Some pretty boy. Real bastard, gave off a bad vibe, this fucker." he smiled pleasantly. "I may just go after him once I'm done here and give myself a little bonus just for the hell of it."
Red frowned at the provided information, his mind swirling with possibilities... the foremost suspect to come to mind.
Tom Keen.
The idiot! No way did that asshole have that kind of balls! But then... maybe he did? Tom was weak enough to hire his dirty work out.
"If I hire you," Red negotiated, "to take this man down, at double the price..." he controlled his tone, "will you let her go?"
"Ah... contract negotiations," Carver sneered his amusement. "I always fulfill a contract," he brightened, "there are stipulations I adhere to, you understand. But given the correct amount of incentive, mind you..." he shrugged.
Red's hands clenched at his side as Elizabeth fought to retain consciousness. Her head lolled side to side, her face ashen. Her labored breathing sounded incredibly loud and shallow in the silence.
"I can provide enough incentive." Red narrowed dangerous eyes. "Do you accept the terms?"
"As I said, I am a professional," the man laughed almost gaily. "My reputation is at stake, Reddington. Besides, she's become somewhat of an obsession with me, I admit."
"You think you're getting out of this alive?" Red motioned to Dembe. "My men will take you down."
"Do you seriously think I would be this careless without an assured means of escape?" The statement gave Red pause for thought.
Though subtle, Liz saw Red's eyes refocus, allowing her into his field of vision. Sharpening her gaze on the man, she hoped he understood the silent message she wished to convey... and needed him so desperately to understand.
Weakly dropping her chin, Liz's heart beat wildly as Carver's hand repositioned itself, allowing her a lungful of air.
Red's jaw clenched tight as the woman slowly sagged forward, her neck resting in Carver's palm. Glancing once more at the blood running down her leg, Elizabeth's fingers imperceptibly curl inwards in a beckoning motion.
Red caught the gesture, his heart pounding loudly in his chest.
Hoping like hell he was reading the sign correctly, Red took in the position of Carver's blade. With Dembe directly behind him... Red prepared himself for what was to come, swallowing hard.
"I don't need her blood on my fucking hands, you idiot!" Red snapped his fury, hurriedly striding for the man, hoping like hell Carver would make his fatal mistake, for the totally unexpected move.
Rushing forward, Red kept his focus trained on the weapon in Carver's hand, when suddenly Lizzy reared her head back, catching the bastard on the bridge of his nose.
The satisfying crunch of bones crackling like dry kindling and Carver's bellow of pain was a damned gratifying one.
Jolting with the unexpected hit and blinding pain, Carver clawed at his face, instinctively swinging his arm outward in a wide arc.
Grasping Elizabeth's arm, Red yanked her from harm's way, side-stepping the knife thrown their direction.
Liz's panic eyes widened when the shiny steel imbedded itself into the wall directly beside her head.
Pushing Lizzy back, Red spat a foul curse as the woman tumbled askew, just barely catching herself onto the bench at the foot of the bed.
Grappling for his waistline, Carver grabbed for a knife, sliding it free from its sheath.
Grabbing tight to Carver's wrist, Red held the blade up and away from the woman. Throwing his left arm, his fist connected soundly with Carver's jaw, sending the man careening backwards.
Dembe stoically allowed the deadly game to play out. Raymond had waited forever for this moment, to interfere would not be a wise move to make.
Falling to the floor, Liz dragged herself forward, straining to reach the gun laying just out of her reach.
Stepping closer to the woman, Dembe blocked the two struggling men away from Liz's position, allowing her a moment to gain her bearings.
The normally soft carpet fibers dug unforgivably into her leg wound, taking the breath from her already deprived lungs.
"Lie still, Elizabeth," Dembe softly advised. "Francis has sent for the doctor, he will arrive shortly, I assure you."
Blocking out the sounds behind her, Liz clenched her jaw tight against the radiating pain, gripping the bench leg to pull herself closer.
Blinking past the tears clouding her vision, she curved her fingers about the butt of her gun, rolling breathlessly to her back just as Carver stumbled away from Red.
Growling his anger, Carver caught himself on a nearby chair, rushing Reddington head on.
Steadying his stance, Red blocked sight of Elizabeth, his attention on the gleaming blade in the man's grasp.
"Raymond!" Dembe barked a warning.
Too intent on Carver's bulk barreling towards him, and the knife in his hand, Red's brow furrowed its confusion as the loud report of weapon's fire cut through the heavy fog of rage.
Carver jerked backwards and yelled out... his shoulder blossoming with a starburst of blood.
Glancing hastily to the source, Red's eyes gleamed their pride as Lizzy held her gun aloft in shaking hands, aiming it at their enemy. Her whole body trembled with exhaustion, her features paling further by the second.
"Dembe..." Red jerked a hand towards the woman. "Get her out!"
Gagging on the acrid stench of gunpowder, sweat, and copper inundating the muggy room, Liz's arm weakly fell to the bench beside her in defeat. "N-No, I want to stay."
Without hesitation, Dembe hurried for Elizabeth, lifting her from the floor with ease.
"Dembe... no!" Liz weakly protested his actions.
Hastily bypassing the danger presented, Dembe rushed from the room.
Depositing the woman on the couch, Dembe yanked a throw blanket off its perch, wrapping it about Elizabeth's trembling form.
"A towel!" Dembe's no-nonsense tone jolted those present.
Taking the needed supplies Francis handed him, Dembe placed it against the wound. Concentrating on the problem at hand, he ignored the sounds of the struggle escalate just beyond the darkened portal, for now.
"Go..." Liz placed her hand over Dembe's, "go to, Red." she waved the man off. "I'm fine, go."
Jerking a nod of his head, Dembe stood, sharply gesturing Francis to take his place. "Place pressure on that!"
Liz looked after the man's retreat, her face etched with open concern and fear.
Narrowing fixed eyes on the bastard opposite him, Red jerked back as Carver lunged and swung his arm in a wide arc, slicing the blade through the air with remarkable force.
The stinging slice of the blade nicked Red's flesh, drawing a thin line across his chest.
"I expected better," Red sneered his contempt, side-stepping the next slash, "... from a professional."
Spitting blood from his mouth, Carver grinned maliciously, delivering another swiping pass that cut Reddington's arm. "Give me a moment... just warming up."
"And here I thought bloodletting became passé over a hundred years ago." Red shook his head in disgust.
Only Carver's look of triumph alerted Red he'd been cut, for the adrenaline coursing through his veins allowed him to feel very little... aside from a growing urge to sever Carver's head from his body.
"I believe in the practice myself," Carver's eyes glittered, watching the bloody rivulets stream down Reddington's chest and arm. "And as you are aware... everything comes back into vogue." he motioned to Red's vest.
"I met the most charming woman in Mongolia," Red related, blocking another jabbing lunge of his opponent, "who was bound and determined to bleed me in hopes it would rid me of a raging hard-on."
"Don't you love Mongolian women!" Carver nodded sagely.
Throwing his hand out, Red knocked the man's intended blow to the wayside before ramming a well placed elbow into Carver's kidney.
"Thankfully, her beautiful daughter intervened," Red snapped, striking Carver across the jaw, "and relived me of the problem before there was any blood loss."
"Well, they always have a beautiful daughter willing to drain you dry, don't they." Carver replied, nonchalantly spitting blood on the floor.
"You waste too much time," Red countered. "You have no style... no form. It's an embarrassment, really."
"Oh, let's not bring personalities into this." Carver scolded. "This is fun, for me at least." the man granted. "I mean, I'm gonna enjoy killing you."
"I hate a braggart," Red provoked the fucker. Bracing himself, he rammed his shoulder against the man's chest as he barreled towards him.
Slamming against a nearby table, Red hissed when the corner dug sharply into his spine on impact. The art hanging on the walls fell askew and to the floor, the delicate frames shattering on impact.
"Is it bragging..." Carver lunged, jabbing the knife into Red's hip, chuckling a dark laugh, "if it's true?"
Deflecting the full-force of the attack, Red grunted as he felt the blade slice through his slacks and skin, though not puncture the muscle.
"Raymond!' Dembe took a step towards the men when he saw blood suddenly stain the man's trousers.
"Back off!" Red growled, stilling his friend in his tracks.
Standing like an expressionless sentinel, Dembe followed Raymond's every movement, as keenly as he did Carver's.
Should he be needed, he was there. Though, the way Raymond went for Carver's throat... he didn't believe his services would be warranted. Though a huge part of him fervently wished, they would be.
Slamming his fist into Reddington's jaw, Carver chuckled around a fitful cough, his chest gurgling from the blood pouring down his throat.
Moving his head with the punishing blows, Red turned completely aside with the next forward thrust, finding a grim satisfaction as Carver's fist drove straight into the doorjamb beside them and shouted painfully.
"No matter how stout you are," Red bared his teeth, "that fucking hurts like a bitch, doesn't it!?"
Shoving back at his assailant, Red rammed his fist into Carver's face, pummeling the already mangled surface.
"It does, rather..." Carver managed between spurts of blood, wincing noticeably.
The slick slide of his knuckles raking bloodied flesh felt all too familiar. The sensation was one Red welcomed, as he would an old friend.
"I don't know why everyone worships you," Carver spat, coating Red's vest in blood splatter. "I'm not fucking impressed. Oh, sorry about the spillage there." he indicated the ruined piece of clothing.
Turning the blade in his hand, Carver jammed his fist forward, cutting through layers of skin and muscle.
Gritting his teeth, Red growled painfully, bracing himself against the searing pain shooting through his side.
"You know what they say," Red grated furiously, jerking and spinning the psychopath about, "you can't please everyone."
Grabbing Carver by the shirt, Red balled the fabric tight in his fist, shoving the fucker face first into the glass doors.
Hastily stepping over the littered floor, Dembe neared the men's position, taking in the carnage; blocking any escape path.
Slivers of glass, wood and blood lay scattered about. One door broke from its hinges, landing with a crash on the patio, the other dangled precariously by a bent pin.
"Is that better?" Red hissed, kicking his foot into his disoriented opponent's side.
Carver barked a curse when a sharp splinter of glass cut into his eye just seconds before his face smacked hard against the shattered remnants of the door and concrete slab.
Dembe's concerned eyes glanced sharply at Raymond's wounds, his patience wearing thin.
The cuts to the man's arm and chest were relatively minor, the one on his hip and side were another matter. The blood stains were growing larger at an alarming rate.
The discordant sound of the patio furniture being shoved aside was quickly followed by Red stepping over the Carver's prone form.
Struggling to his arm, blood spewed from Carver's mouth when Reddington's fist plowed into his eye socket, shoving the embedded glass deeper.
Capturing a flailing arm, Red grasped the man's wrist, bending it backwards until he heard and felt the definite snap of it breaking in his tight hold.
Carver grunted low, a slight grimace on his distorted features.
"How am I doing?" Red hissed through clenched teeth, jerking experimentally on the fractured bone. The man's shout of agony was music to his ears.
"I don't know, Dembe," the large, patient man was consulted, "... should I break the bastard's ankle like he did Elizabeth's?"
Lifting a noble chin, Dembe shrugged half-heartedly. "I would rather you didn't, just yet anyway." he said. "He appears rather a heavy burden to remove after you've finished with him there."
"Good point," Red nodded, leaning his weight into Carver's back.
"Please, gentlemen... don't count me out just yet." Carver chuckled, his voice optimistically upbeat.
Hastily securing the man's wrists, Dembe nodded his gratitude to a security guard when the man shoved a pair of zip-ties, for added security, in his line of sight.
Grasping Carver's elbow, Dembe roughly pulled the man to his feet as Red set a nearby chair upright.
Shoving Carver into the seat, Dembe lackadaisically watched the chair tilt backwards before slamming back to all four legs.
"What a ride!" Carver chuckled. "I thought I was gonna die there for a second."
Feeling a darkness looming over him, Carver craned his head, slowly looking up at Reddington's black eyes focused squarely on him.
"Is there a lash in my eye?" the question was rhetorical, of course. The glass shard had insidiously sliced the man's pupil. Blood poured from the orifice.
Exchanging oblique glances with Dembe, Red returned his attention where it was needed.
"I'm going to enjoy gutting you," Red seethed, ripping a blade from around Carver's waist.
Tucking the blankets he had on hand around Lizzy, Francis shoved a pillow under her leg, none too gently, before leaning heavily into the open gash.
"Shit!" Liz hissed at the unexpected sting. Her hands shook, her fingers clenching tight around the backrest, when a throbbing burn tore through her leg. "It's okay, it's okay..." she gamely responded.
"I'm sorry, Lizzy," Francis' face fell for the pain he inflicted, squeezing her thigh tighter to stem the blood loss. "I'm so sorry..."
"Don't apologize!" she half giggled, half cried. "Are you kidding me! You guys showing up," she grimaced, "...My day got a little brighter, I gotta tell you!"
Liz frowned her anxiety when the room fell eerily silent. Struggling to move from the couch, Francis' gentle hand halted the foolish attempt.
"What... what's happening?" she strained to catch a glimpse of Red... Dembe.
The need to verify Red's welfare was paramount.
"Red's got it covered," Mark crouched down beside her. "The doctor here is gonna look at that leg, all right." he gestured to the man behind him preparing his needed equipment.
Looking once more at the opened portal to their room, Liz reluctantly nodded, allowing the man to do his work.
Her eyes never once strayed from the darkened entryway the entire procedure.
Watching Dembe secure the man's legs to the high-back chair, Red rolled the blade in his hand, his fingers curving to the hilt.
The strain of withholding the urge to shove it in Carver's chest... a draining task.
Was this the blade that hurt Lizzy? Was he holding the weapon which caused her... him, so much pain?
"This is so melodramatic, don't you agree?" Carver began the conversation. "This is not your style, Reddington." He scoffed his derision. "You don't confront people head on, you're the type that relies on his gun... and his underlings to do the dirty work."
"There's a lot you don't know about me, I see." Red's features darkened menacingly.
Sighing his boredom, Carver shifted to a more comfortable position, only to growl his pain when he felt the shocking jolt of a blade cut into his flesh.
Dropping his stunned gaze, the man focused on the knife sticking up from his thigh; the blade buried a couple of inches in the thick muscle.
"Well played," the guy seemed genuinely impressed.
"Unlike you," Red grabbed the hilt, twisting it slowly, "I became bored with the one-on-one," he inched the blade higher up Carver's leg, "not because of morals or a weak stomach..."
Wishing to clear up any misconceptions, so all present understood one another, Red offered a lazy grin, "I resorted to shooting people so I could catch the afternoon showing of Jeopardy."
Dembe nodded stoically at his side, recalling how he and Raymond kept track of who answered questions correctly first and what their grand sum would be by the show's end.
"I am up five-thousand dollars, by the way." Dembe helpfully reminded.
Red drew in a cleansing breath. "I remember," he forced a smile, returning to the matter at hand.
Shaking from the wretched pain, Carver gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply as Reddington pushed the steel deeper until he tickled bone.
"Oh, my," Carver sighed blissfully, "I have never experienced it from this end... it's quite exhilarating, really."
"Glad I could be of assistance," Red glared angered eyes at the man, "you're going to really enjoy what's on the horizon... I know I will."
Breathing through clenched teeth, Carver gasped sharply when Reddington casually wiggled the knife back and forth. This time, there was no witty retort.
"How were you contacted?" Red asked quietly. "Concerning this contract?"
"Go to hell," Carver breathed through the pain, searching for the high he often felt at such times.
"Looks like you'll be arriving first," Red wiped the sweat from his brow. "Unless you answer my questions, that is."
"I would sooner eat sushi from a truck stop."
Just as Red imagined, Carver fell silent, stone-faced, preparing himself for the long haul.
"You cooperate," Red shrugged carelessly, "I might even turn you over to the nice Feds. I know people who know people, remember."
Laughing his disdain, Carver fixed Reddington with a blasé stare. "If you're suggesting that you'll release me to her custody," the man jutted his chin in the general direction of Elizabeth, "I should remind you, I'll slit her pretty little throat before we even leave the property."
Staring blankly at the man, Red grasped the knife butt in hand, drawing it towards him.
He felt a certain satisfaction as Carver trembled hard the further he cut into the man's flesh, his face breaking into a sweat. The man's parlor was chalky, pale... his eyes devoid of anything but the agony of Red's actions.
"How old was this man?" Red asked a more simplistic question. "Was he brunet or blonde? Perhaps he had a wine preference with his pork?" he wiggled the knife back and forth slowly.
"She must be one nice piece of ass," Carver breathed roughly, "that you'll show your cards to your cronies there." he motioned to the room full of silent onlookers standing around.
Holding Carver's eyes placidly, Red inched the knife closer his direction. "As I said, I'm not finished with her yet," he sighed.
"Yes, I heard," Carver coughed a crackling laugh. "You proposed to her... right?" the man arched a brow. "Did you fuck her beforehand?"
"It's a brilliant plan, if I say so myself," Red held his expression. "Marry a Fed," he tittered, "...talk about an iron-clad immunity deal."
Lowering his chin, Carver took a deep breath, bracing himself.
"Just between me and you," Red leaned whispering, "she's got a fucking mouth on her." His eyes closed as if visualizing Elizabeth's attributes. "The girl was meant to be flat on her back, legs spread."
"You seriously expect me to believe this shit?" Carver scowled. "You're never crude or vulgar, even over females that deserve such treatment."
"Again, you make assumptions." Sitting back in his seat, Red strove for a casual, aloof bearing... neither of which, he was feeling one iota.
"Let's get back on track," Red casually transferred the blade to Carver's other thigh, sinking the cool steel deep into the giving flesh.
Carver's body quivered spasmodically, a low growl gurgling in his chest.
"I've been navigating the underworld for a little over twenty years," Red nodded. "In all that time, the Feds never got a line on me."
Visions of Donald Ressler continually arriving minutes too late flashed in Red's mind.
"You amateurs," Red laughed shortly, shaking his head, "you never learned to play the system... or bend it to your specifications."
Red had not only bent it, he manipulated it to the point the whole system was warped.
"Hector Lorca, The Stewmaker, Anslo... you," he offered Carver a contemptuous sneer, "it's no wonder you get caught."
"I'm not caught... not just yet," Carver coughed fitfully, spitting another mouthful of blood to the floor. "Should I remind you, you're the one who went traitor and killed your old-acquaintances... and you label me?"
"I did, yes." Red didn't deny it. "You know why? Because their technique was lacking, and quite frankly, they were all egotistical idiots. You're an insult to what I wished to achieve."
Carver shrugged indifferent shoulders. Lorca was an idiot, he had to admit. Stewmaker... he was an odd duck. Anslo, though amusing, the man had more than a few screws loose.
"They came in like a blunt axe," Red laid it out, "caused havoc, got the Feds all riled up... only to leave associates such as myself under intense scrutiny."
"Did our dearly departed friends leave you in a lurch." Carver smiled wickedly. "Oh, I'm sorry."
"Knocking off a Fed draws the wrong kind of attention," Red disdained. "It's a distracting nuisance I can't be bothered with, especially not when my full immunity deal is within reach."
Red sat back, rubbing his hand along his thighs, laughing. "I wonder, is this how a diplomat feels... being beyond the reach of the law?"
"Is there a point to this unending diatribe?" Carver wanted to know.
"Ah, yes... I digress," Red conceded, ignoring the other man entirely. "I really need to get some sort of badge or official looking credentials, though."
"They come in handy." Carver's eyes closed, his breathing labored and shallow.
"The guy who hired you... would I know him were we to meet face-to-face? Have we met face-to-face?"
"Back to that, are we?" Carver sighed his boredom. "You know, I have a contract which stipulates... I keep my mouth shut."
"Yes, well," Red replied, his tone just as droll, "contracts are meant to be broken."
Red yanked the knife embedded in Carver's leg... finding yet another yielding piece of flesh, his expression starkly blank.
Puncturing through the thickened skin and muscle, Red slid the tip through Carver's arm, easing it downward towards the man's elbow.
Carver jolted in his seat, clamping his jaw tight to contain his snarl of pain. He took the sensation into his body savoringly, hissing caustically.
"Especially when you haven't established any loyalty... with anyone." Red slowly tilted the blade, drawing it towards him once more.
Carver closed his eyes, withholding a pant of agony.
"Had you shown loyalty to someone... anyone, it would be prudent to see who my enemy would be once they learned of your demise."
Red couldn't help but point out the facts of Carver's predicament as the man's blood oozed from the wide gash, trickling down Carver's arm to the floor below.
"Lucky for me, no one will come in and save you... or champion your usefulness," Red told the truth. "Psychopaths like you are a dime a dozen. You'll be replaced before your body cools."
The thought was disturbing, but true.
Attempting to control his breathing, Carver groaned softly until he felt the distinct click of metal hit bone. Hissing sharply, a line of bloody spittle pooled from his mouth, dropping carelessly on his shirt.
"There will never be another one like me." Carver gritted through his teeth, chuckling his mirth.
"And we all take a collected breath for little favors," Red shrugged carelessly. "Where was I? Oh, yes..."
Jamming the blade downward, Red ignored Carver's grunt of discord when the metal nicked his crotch and sack before the long blade sunk into his inner thigh.
"Careful old sod... that was too close." Carver's breath was shallow, a gasping remnant of his former baritone.
Pushing against the hilt of the weapon, Red eased the sharpened blade through Carver's thick skin, muscle and denim of the man's jeans.
The man stiffened rigidly, panting hard.
"I must say," Red nodded his approval, "I applaud you for keeping your weapons in such splendid working order." He praised. "I bet you could cut a tomato paper thin with this."
"Among other things," Carver curved his hands into tight fists, wishing desperately to ease the pain in his dick. "Like... pretty brunette, FBI agents."
"When you met this man who hired you," Red ignored the jibe, "I don't suppose he offered over a name?"
"You're so transparent, Reddington." Carver blinked against the blood running from his eye. "You think those men behind you will let you walk out of here? Besides, what's in a name? We all use aliases..."
"Humans are creatures of habit," Red continued undaunted. It was the nature of the game, to find your enemy's weakness. "If he used it once..." he let it go.
Any starting point was better than no leads at all.
Red gave little credence to the other veiled threat.
Though Elizabeth was his weakness... this asshole didn't need to know to what extent.
"More to the point," Carver provoked, "you think they'll let your little pet live?" the man coughed fitfully. "She's a fucking Fed."
Red knew, if push came to shove, he could get Elizabeth out of here without issue, regardless of the men in this room, because he had one thing Carver didn't have.
While he knew this revelation would upset Francis... he knew the boy wouldn't react hastily. He could say the same for Mark, Michael, and Ben.
They wouldn't be pleased with him, perhaps even question his motives... but he had a history with these men. Without him, all four would be on the streets or dead twice over had it not been for his timely intervention.
They would ask questions, test his loyalty... but it would allot him enough time to secure Elizabeth's safety.
Removing the knife from its makeshift hilt, Red sighed... giving Carver a long, withering look.
"This is getting wearisome," Red sighed.
Holding Reddington's eyes easily, Carver growled through his teeth as the man stabbed the knife once more through the rounded bulge in his pants, cutting sharply into his groin before the knife plunged deep into his other thigh.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Carver bellowed, curling in on himself.
"Where did you meet this man?" Red moved on to another question.
"He was on a fucking boat," Carver squeezed his eyes shut tight, a throbbing pain shooting through the head of his dick. He withered about, suffering the agony.
Yanking the blade free, Red leaned back in his chair, settling his hand on his own leg.
"A fucking boat..." Red nodded thoughtfully. "That was helpful."
"Fuck you.." Carver shifted in his seat, trying to ease the pain.
Shaking his head, Red leaned leisurely, extracting his gun from his waistband.
Carver frowned, canting his head curiously as the man leveled the gun at his chest.
"What the hell..." the man's scowl deepened, his confusion apparent. "I didn't fucking say anything you could possibly use."
Pushing from his chair, Red grimaced as the wound at his side pulled uncomfortably.
"You told me all I needed to know." Red replied, his tone flat. "I was just curious about the rest..."
Placing the barrel of the gun to Carver's chest, Red leaned, muttering quietly. "Just for the record...I do love her." he leaned in further, whispering the taunt. "And don't you wish now... you had taken the deal."
Carver jerked as the responding bullet tore through his chest and out his back... stealing the life from him before the man could blink.
Standing upright, Red kinked his back, relieving the pressure in his side a moment.
"Raymond..." Dembe stepped, concern in his dark eyes.
"I'm fine," Red waved away any concern. "Just need a stitch or two."
Quietly conferring with security, Mark glanced at Carver's dead body... sighing as the men artfully, yet quickly, wrapped the man in the provided bedding before removing the heavy corpse from the room.
Ignoring the others present, Red went to Lizzy's side, sitting behind her as Francis vacated the spot.
Glancing down at her leg, Red grimaced, gently tracing the now sutured wound. "Baby, are you all right?"
He smoothed his hand over the woman's tousled hair before cupping her ashen cheek.
"I am now," she finally took a settling breath as Red's hand lay naturally on her hip, the feeling a normal one.
"It's okay... the doctor numbed it pretty good." she chuckled, more from the pain meds coursing through her system than anything else.
Red looked into her glassy eyes, pleased to note she wasn't feeling any pain... yet. She would tomorrow, however, in more ways than one he imagined.
"Did he tell you anything?" Liz searched Red's face. "Was it Tom?"
Curving his warmed fingers about Lizzy's cold, trembling ones, Red helped the woman steady the cup as she sipped her juice.
"...Yes," Red nodded, his mouth falling into a deep frown. "Said he met the man... on a boat."
"Why?" Liz asked, clasping the blanket to her breast.
"It wouldn't be hard to wager a guess, would it." Red murmured, brushing the hair from her face.
"I know Tom's crazy," Liz murmured, her expression one of mixed emotions, "but I never thought he'd hire someone to kill me."
She hated Tom Keen, but the idea he would do something so vile... it was incredibly disturbing.
"He didn't hire Carver to kill you, sweetheart," Red tenderly rubbed her damaged leg, "it was for me."
"But..."
"Carver basically said," Red repeated tidbits of the madman's rant, "though he was hired to take me out... it didn't mean he couldn't fuck with me." the thought was a sobering one. "He hurt you... intended to kill you, because you are my biggest vulnerability."
"An FBI Agent?" Francis finally spoke, his tone a tightly condemning one. He frowned at the display before him, crossing his arms across his chest; his manner closed off... his eyes cold.
Red cut the young man a dark look, "Yes, Francis... an FBI Agent."
Looking back and forth between the two, Francis shook his head in the next instant... simply walking towards the door.
Red's face fell as tears filled Liz's eyes as she watched her friend... her best-friend, walk away.
"F-Francis..." Liz's lip quivered as she called out to the man.
Francis stopped in the doorway, keeping his back to them... though turned his head in profile.
Clasping her hand tight in his, Red fought the urge to knock some sense into Francis as he watched the tears trickle freely down Lizzy's cheeks.
"T-Thank you..." she sniffled, pinching her lips tight, "... for helping me."
Nodding curtly, Francis walked out the room without a backward glance.
Shifting his attention, Red's brow furrowed as Lizzy's expression crumbled. Quickly hiding her despair, she dropped her face into her palms, muffling the quiet sound of her crying.
Kissing the crown of her head, Red closed his eyes as he felt the woman trembling under him. "It's all right..." he murmured lovingly. "It'll be okay..."
"Look," Mark stepped up, "I don't know the whole story here," he lifted helpless hands. "But I know you..." he locked eyes with Red.
Lifting upright, Red rubbed a consoling hand down Lizzy's back. "You do..."
"If you were set out to betray any of us," Mark waved a hand to the collected few, "... you would have done it by now, I think."
The man turned sympathetic eyes to Elizabeth. "Lizzy also had ample opportunity to... do her job." he shrugged. "But she hasn't. I think there is a bigger agenda here than... us." he motioned aimlessly, meaning the organization.
Red took note, the man used Elizabeth's informal name... which meant something in his books.
"Are you two, uh..." Ben scratched his neck, "really engaged, or was it a ruse?"
"We are engaged," Red confirmed, "and will hopefully," he smiled gently at the woman, "marry as soon as possible."
"Well, then," Ben glanced at Mark and Michael, his brows lifting, "I don't see a problem here."
"I admit, I'm curious what you've been doing," Michael admitted. "But considering all who's in attendance this year..." he gestured to the property filled with criminals, "I'm wagering, it really has nothing to do with us."
"It does not," Red admitted freely. "Elizabeth, nor I, care nothing about your business dealings."
"Oh, I get it," Ben nodded slowly. "You're trying to figure out what happened... in your past?"
Red's eyes clouded over, images of his ex-wife and daughter sharp in his mind's eye. "...Yes."
"Well, hey," Ben shrugged, "I can understand that. I mean you want to find out what happened to you wife and daughter..." the man trailed off, grimacing.
"It's all right." Red understood the man's hesitation for what it was.
Everyone assumed his family was dead. Had it not been his chance meeting with Carla... he would have assumed the same.
Red scowled as a man walked into the room, muttering something in Mark's ear.
"Thank you," Mark said, then turned to Red. "Well, where do we go from here? News is spreading fast, I'm sure."
"We should probably go." Red stood, decision made. "We don't want to make anyone uncomfortable with our presence."
"Whatever." Mark scoffed. "You're both my guests." he smiled at Elizabeth specifically. "Anyone has a problem with that... they can fucking leave."
"That's kind of you, Mark." Liz's eyes misted once more, grasping Red's hand tight. "But... I don't want to cause anymore problems for you..." her mouth trembled. "I can explain–"
"Look, you're wounded," Mark gestured to the couple, "and you're both exhausted." he stated the obvious. "Get some sleep and worry about the rest of the shit in the morning."
Without waiting for further word, Mark turned on his heel, gesturing to a concierge who just arrived.
"William here will handle your new accommodations," Mark stated how things would progress. "I will go calm the restless natives."
Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Red gratefully took the offered reprieve.
Waving off the pain meds the doctor who now attended his wound offered, Red sat, smiling each time Lizzy grimaced sympathetically when the suturing needle pierced his flesh.
"He'll come around, Lizzy." Red knew the woman was distraught over Francis.
"Will he? I don't think so." she whispered. "... I can't say I blame him." She said, wiping roughly at her eyes. "I lied to him, Red."
"Merely an omission," Red corrected. "We are engaged, and we never referenced your work, so... it was an omission."
"I should have told him," she murmured sadly. "I had no reason not to..." she gave the man a wilting look. "I know what you're gonna say, but had I told him, I think he would have given me a chance to explain."
Red had to wonder, was Francis' reaction borne out of disappointment because it appeared they had not trusted him enough to divulge that information. Or was his escape made out of self-preservation? Did he imagine any second now to be apprehended by the Feds?
Only time would tell.
"We should go." Liz slid towards the edge of the couch, a worried expression on the pretty face.
"We're staying the night," Red stopped the woman in her tracks. "Mark was right... we're exhausted."
Liz's shoulders slumped, the weight of everything falling on her at once.
"Running away also implies guilt," Red eyed the woman purposely. "We've explained our reasons, now... we stand by them."
Liz nodded her understanding, resting her head against Red's shoulder. If nothing else, no one had asked what she did for the FBI. For all anyone knew, really... she was merely flew a desk and pushed paper. A cog in the wheel.
For all she knew, they may even believe Red's side of the story.
She heard a little of what he said to Carver in regards to her. It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility the others believed Red was using her access to get what he wanted.
"I know what you're thinking," Red steadied his focus on her, "and no, I'm not using you. I could have obtained the information I needed in any number of ways."
Liz lowered her eyes, remaining silent.
"I chose you because... there was always a deep interest." His eyes told her so much more than what he was saying. "I fell in love with you. End of story... or just the beginning."
"I wasn't thinking that," she lied.
"You were about to," Red knew the woman's way of thinking. "I know you, Lizzy."
She didn't think her thoughts were veering in that direction, but considering her experience with Tom, it would have only made sense if her mind questioned Red's motives.
"I'd like to get answers," Red admitted. "But I've gone this long without them... what's another thirty years."
Sliding forward, Liz leaned into the man, needing his comfort in more ways than one.
Wrapping his arms about the woman, Red kissed the dip in her shoulder, sharing his warmth with her.
"Give Francis time, Lizzy." he murmured. "He may yet surprise you."