Undisclosed Location - Big Bear, California - February 14th, 2001

The following day saw Rosalie hot-tempered and on edge.

She hadn't slept the rest of the night, alternating between terse phone calls with her security on the ground and endless pacing over how to handle this latest blow. The lack of adequate sleep made a solution all the more illusive, and by the time Rosalie and her guard boarded the jet, she'd conceded to taking a couple sleeping pills to force her mind to rest.

Teddy and Horace were blissfully unaware of the massive sweep that had occurred in the night, and thus slept soundly.

They landed shortly after noon at Big Bear's private airport, and a small, secretive smile tugged at the corner of Rosalie's lips when she caught the tail of Raymond's jet peeking from the hangar next to them. The others were thankfully too busy preparing to disembark to notice.

She counted her blessings, already dreading what Horace would have to say when it turned out Raymond was the reason they'd left so early.

Caroline exited the cockpit with a wry smile. "Rosalie, Otto is asking if we could borrow Horace while you meet with Mr. King? He says if we want to get a quick turnaround right back to Singapore, he needs to change out one of the engine components. It's too heavy a part for him and I to lift."

Rosalie thought that was as good an excuse as any not to have Horace there for her meeting with Raymond. "Sure!" she said, trying not to sound too jovial, "That's perfectly fine. Teddy and I will meet with Earl and come right back. I don't have any other business that needs tending to on this side of the states."

Horace returned his bag to its place in the closet. "You're sure you and Ted can handle it?"

"Of course," she reassured, patting his arm. "Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. We'll see you in a bit."

Horace nodded, albeit reluctantly, then turned to head for the cockpit.

The drive to the Big Bear property was uneventful. As they took to the mountain lane, the once-upon-a-time ski lodge Rosalie managed to secure for King loomed high above them, its peaks dusted with a fine sprinkling of fresh snow.

"Is that-?"

One of Raymond's towncars waited on the newly-heated driveway upon their arrival, vapor billowing from its tail pipe.

"Yes, and not one word will leave your lips about him being here."

Teddy glanced in the rear-view mirror. "Rosalie, are you sure everything's alright?"

"Everything's fine. Wait in the car while I see what he wants."

"Oh...okay."

Rosalie paused at Ted's hurt tone. "Teddy, you know I'm not angry with you, right?"

Ted's lips pursed moodily. "I know," he said, "Just be careful, yeah?"

She patted his hand, "I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark. I'll explain everything, I just need some questions answered first."

Teddy nodded, a small smile warming his features when Rosalie's door swung open and Raymond extended a glove hand to assist her out.

Rosalie felt a wave of relief wash over her at slipping her hand in his, forgetting about her suspicious guard in an instant.

Raymond waited until they were safely inside, away from prying eyes and ears, to pull her close.

"How are you, my dear?"

Her head listed into his warm palm when he cupped her cheek. "Tired," she sighed, "Anxious. A lot of things. How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said, dismissively. "Worried, but fine."

She met his gaze, noting the familiar tension puckering his brow. Rising to the tips of her toes, she placed a gentle kiss to the spot, then another to his cheek.

Red turned and caught her lips with his, deepening the contact instantly. His fingers threaded through the curls at the nape of her neck, holding her to his pleasure as he kissed her deeply.

Rosalie could only melt into him, a familiar warmth blooming in her chest.

A throat cleared politely from the doorway.

The couple broke apart with but one bashful glance for Kate and Dembe.

"Long time no see." said the former, dryly. She nodded to Rosalie, "Though I haven't missed happening upon the two of you in compromising positions these past several months, it's good to see you back."

Rosalie smoothed an awkward hand over her tousled curls. "Erm...Hi Kate. It's nice to see you too."

Dembe was grinning at them both. "Perhaps we should get down to business," he advised, "Before Mr. King arrives and we can no longer speak freely."

The foursome convened in the only room in the house that wasn't still stripped down to studs. The den at least had walls and freshly resurfaced floors. A few of the larger furniture pieces had already been brought in as well, and now rested beneath large draping cloths in the center of the room.

"Alright," Rosalie huffed, "What did your men uncover?"

"The team in Cardiff found remnants of a squatter's belongings in the safe house there." Dembe handed her a photograph of the items. "Nothing of importance, just a liquor bottle and a book we're swabbing for prints. There were also some half-burnt papers in the fireplace that were partially salvaged. They referenced a deal made through a new proxy."

"Which one?"

"We do not know, that portion was burnt. It does not matter, though. We found the important piece. The proxy was hired to engage a little-known assassin's guild called The Dead Man's Hand. We believe they've been hired to pursue Raymond."

Rosalie looked to Red, who had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. "We need to be careful, then. I'm afraid I haven't even heard of this guild."

"Most people haven't." he replied, "Admittedly, I've only heard of them in passing, but a bit of snooping in the underground may give us a good idea of what to expect."

"Perhaps the Feds can assist?"

Red chuckled. "They're not exactly in the mood to do me any favors. I stole their last captive right from under their nose, they're not happy."

A grimace met this. "Thanks again," she murmured, "I couldn't let Doorley rot in there when he didn't give me up to the Feds."

"I agree," said Red, "If you didn't have a place for him, I would've found one. Associates who don't fold under that kind of pressure are hard to find; you never know when one may come in handy."

"So what are we going to do about the Dead Man's Hand?"

"Dembe and I will look into them. There's not much else we can do at the moment."

"You're pretty relaxed for a man with a fresh bounty on his head." she teased, bumping her shoulder with his.

Raymond smirked back at her. "For men like me, bounties are old hat. I've got a pretty good track record for returning heads to senders."

They laughed softly to themselves, lost in their own little bubble until Dembe cleared his throat again. "We managed to pull three of the teams that hadn't yet breached their locations, once we found out he'd been in Cardiff. It's not much..." he handed her a bit of card stock with the unharassed properties' coordinates on it, "But it's something."

Rosalie took the card and looked to Red once more. "Can your men be trusted?"

He nodded. "They didn't even know they were being sent to sweep safe houses. They only knew they needed to breach their given location. At the very least, those three can wait while you tend to the more urgent replacements."

"Thank you," she said, pocketing the card and turning to Dembe and Kate, "All of you. Your swift assistance means a great deal."

Both smiled, waving a hand as if to say it was nothing.

"I'm sorry we couldn't save more." said Kate.

"Don't be," said Rosalie, "I'd far rather replace every property I own than continue having an enemy in the network running unchecked. I truly can't thank you enough for what you all did."

Red pinked a little at her fervid gratitude, while Kate & Dembe smiled to themselves.

"Speaking of these replacements, how will you explain this to Teddy and the others?"

A terse silence settled awkwardly between them. When Rosalie finally spoke, her throat felt painfully tight.

"You know how I told you I could count on one hand the number of people who knew about that property in Malta? How two of them were the property manager and the maid?"

Understanding dawned on Raymond's face. "The other three are Teddy, Horace, and Otto."

She nodded. "Frankly, I doubt Otto even remembers the Malta safe house. He only stayed there once, and that was years ago when you and I first started moving together. Which leaves..."

"Ted and Horace. Again."

"Yeah."

Red grimaced. "Rosalie..."

"I know," she sighed, "I know."

Kaplan's frown deepened further. "Your guard are considered suspects?"

The pair nodded.

"There's been suspicions cast on each of them since Colombia," said Red, "Teddy was the only one still in Rosalie's employ at the time, and Horace was there the night the German burned down Norrick's apartment, but there hasn't been any ancillary evidence, and I can't for the life of me believe that either would want to do Rosalie harm."

"Neither can I." said Rosalie, "The best possible scenario here is that one of them got careless with access to the network. That's the only explanation that doesn't involve one of them betraying me."

"They should be sidelined." Kate warned, "Until you can uncover the truth, they should not have access to any authority within the network."

"If I do that, I'm showing my hand." said Rosalie, "I already made that mistake once, right after that escapade on the train in Israel. I outright told them I'd be looking into their activities. They both came up clean, but I don't know how reliable that review was now."

"Rosalie's right." said Red, "She shouldn't change anything if it can be helped. Any inconsistencies will alert the culprit that she's onto them, and we could lose the chance to draw them out."

"So she's just going to be carrying on with a potential Judas at her side?"

Rosalie was touched to hear Kate defending her so passionately.

It seemed Dembe was in agreement with her. "Doorley mentioned Basír was also in London that night. It is too coincidental that they were there the same time as you and your guard, when you made the decision last minute. You are certain Horace could not have been involved with them in some way?"

"You didn't see him, Dembe." Rosalie shuddered at the memory, "Horace nearly died that night. It's far more likely his story of happening on the German there was true. Besides, it was Cedric's idea for him to check on Norrick, not his."

Dembe and Kate shared a look. "You're confident Cedric can be trusted?" asked the latter.

"Of course." said Rosalie, "The man is family, he would never do anything of the sort."

She looked to Raymond for confirmation but he was frowning at the coffee table, deep in thought. "...I never considered Cedric."

"Raymond, you can't be serious-"

"Rosalie, you need to suspect everyone with access." Red turned to meet her eye, "Whether you think he's capable of doing so or not, Cedric has extensive access. Between his position with the Armels and the time he's spent with you as you built out your empire, he's bound to know every bit as much as, if not more than both Teddy and Horace about the network and your movements within it. He was also eager to be involved in bringing the German down, which could just as easily be for keeping tabs on us as it could be his attachment to you."

Rosalie's nostrils flared, her jaw clenching to withhold the rebuttal she longed to unleash.

Raymond's eyes softened. "I know you'd rather not believe him capable of such a thing. So let's start with your people in Malta, and hope it never comes to that."

"She needs security she can trust." said Kate, bringing them back to task. "If Rosalie's going to be left with a guard she has to watch her back against, there should be at least one man in her corner."

"I have additional security on Marietta's orders." said Rosalie, "They've been following my every move since December."

"If there's any chance Cedric is involved, Corsica will be a house divided." said Red with a shake of his head, "You need people outside anyone's sphere of influence on your side. I want you to take Baz with you."

"What? Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Raymond, I'm not taking the head of your security. That's foolish, and it leaves you exposed."

"I'll have Dembe-"

Rosalie gave him a stout look. "And what if something happens to the both of you? What then?"

"Fine, fine," he groused, "How about Toddrick and Wallace, then? Surely you can have no objections to taking them?"

"Didn't we just have an entire conversation about not letting on that something's up? Don't you think the two of them tagging along might look a bit suspect?"

The pair scowled at each other, and Dembe stepped in to derail the conversation before either could really dig in their heels.

"We can discuss security at another time; what did you learn about the burners?"

"I reached out to seven property managers last night." Rosalie replied, tearing her eyes from Red's with effort. "I had each of them enter their respective safe houses and access the main contraband cache. I called the number for Basír's phone each time, and every time all the burners in the cache responded."

Red began pacing alongside the room's extensive bookshelves. "So we have to assume every burner in your network is compromised."

She nodded. "I've already issued the order to destroy them offsite, citing a defective order with the supplier."

"Who do you use?"

"Hermes, naturally."

Dembe scratched his head. "Hermes is very thorough. If the burners you received were compromised by someone else, surely he would have noticed?"

"I seldom speak to the man." Rosalie admitted, "He's always been impeccable, and I have a standing order for my operation; reviewing the devices has hardly been necessary these past few years."

"Who's been maintaining that relationship?" asked Red.

"Both Teddy and Horace have had their turn at the helm. Without digging into Hermes' operation, there's no telling exactly when the contaminated devices started arriving."

"You can't be seen looking into him." said Kaplan, "Any whiff of your suspicions will make the responsible party go to ground. Baz and I can pursue the lead on Hermes."

"We need to be very careful with what you admit." Red added, "If anyone on your side is involved with Basír and his cohorts, they'll already know you found a squatter in your network, and that you spoke to them. You need to own up to just enough that you can patch the hole, but nobody in your circle would think you've found out the full extent of the breach."

"I can spin the phones as a mere coincidence." said Rosalie, decidedly. "I left the cache ajar and heard the noise, etc...I can also put out that because of that one bad batch, I want to diversify into other suppliers. Now, what do we know about this third associate?"

It took nearly an hour to go through everything Red learned from Ciaran about the network's mystery guest. By the time he'd finished, Rosalie looked on the verge of pulling her hair out.

"It's going to be alright," he assured, ceasing his pacing and placing a comforting hand atop her own.

"I'm sure it will," she sighed, scrubbing her face. "There's just a lot to be done. I'm overwhelmed just thinking about it."

Red circled the back of her hand with his thumb, giving her time and quiet to think.

After a few moments, she turned to Kate. "Could I bother you to have Teddy bump Earl by a half-hour? He can come inside once he's finished."

"Of course," said Kaplan, and she exited the room.

Raymond gave Dembe a sidelong glance, and the younger man stood to follow.

Once they were alone, Red took a seat at one of the covered couches and pulled Rosalie into his lap. She slumped into his hold, tucking her head beneath his chin and taking a series of deep, steadying breaths.

"A squatter in the network connected to Basír, a safe house in Malta compromised before the client even arrives, every burner in my network somehow coded to Basír's number...It's all too coincidental."

"I agree." he said, trailing the tips of his fingers along her ribcage. "The German's on the move, and he looks to be moving through Basír. They know enough to know the Jailbreaker is in play, and are attempting to circumvent those efforts."

"Which means we're headed in the right direction."

"Mhm."

"But now they know our plan, and they have the benefit of already knowing the freelancers they used."

"Precisely."

"We need to get Rodney to break, as soon as possible."

"Yes."

Rosalie drew his hand into her lap, circling his palm with her thumb as she thought.

Raymond smiled, recalling the nervous tick with increasing fondness, as though his rough hands could be made smooth as her own personal worry stone.

"Keep talking it out, little dove. What else?"

She heaved a sigh.

"If Basír replaced Norrick with Doorley, and Doorley's been dark for a month, but the third associate has still been on the move in the network, that must mean Basír has another source."

"He could," Red conceded, "or the access they gained was deep enough that they're still benefiting from it."

"Perhaps. Norrick alone could have gotten them far indeed. We never really learned just how far; his apartment was destroyed that same night."

Raymond stirred. "That alone makes me suspect Horace."

"I told you he nearly died that night," said Rosalie, shaking her head. "I can't see him taking a gamble like that for anything."

"For you, he might. What about Ted, was he with Cedric the whole time you were in the Abbey?"

"It can't be Teddy."

"Rosalie."

She turned to him with a frown. "Ray, he even looks like a patsy. There's no way-"

"I know you're attached to him," he placated, "but you need to be able to look at everyone in your circle objectively. That includes Cedric and Ted."

"I know..."

A finger came up to trace the bridge of Rosalie's nose, coaxing her sullen gaze back to Red's reassuring one.

"We'll find out the truth, my dear. The agents are already working on the German, and when we finally get to the Jailbreaker, we'll have other avenues to pursue them."

Rosalie growled. "That stubborn blowhard...I'm convinced he'll have to be incarcerated or dead before he'll let me pull him into the black site network."

A chuckle left him at this. "He'll give up the ghost soon. MI6 are making their sweep through Manila in a few short hours. I'll make sure they get close enough to spook him into cooperating. For now, we need to focus on making your operations whole again."

"Hmm..." Rosalie curled into him, not saying anything for several long moments. Some time later, she rose from Red's lap and crossed to the opposite end of the room.

Plucking a spare carpenter's pencil from the workbench, she went up to the stretch of bare drywall and drew a horizontal line.

Raymond watched as she segmented the line into ten sections, topping each with the name of a month, starting with March. To the left, she began noting every safe house in need of replacing from the raid, the properties still owed to Earl King, and the locations she had slated for the remainder of the year.

Systematically, she began splitting each project into pieces, structuring around locales, priority, and complexity until she was left with a hefty but concise list of all that needed to be done to right her ship.

Red found himself mesmerized as the wall burst into a cacophony of arrows and scribbles that moved and twisted to adapt, charting the best possible course with deft delicacy.

When the steps were finally split down to their smallest point and parsed out into the intervening months, Rosalie emerged from the rabbit warren with a look of cautious relief.

"There." she said, "That should work, barring anything catastrophic. It'll be a dead sprint to December, but I can hit the gas on Earl's project and get him out of my hair by June. That'll free up some bandwidth." Another section was crossed out and scribbled elsewhere, replacing one safe house with another, "She's not pretty," Rosalie admitted with a tilt of her head, "but, she'll do."

She stared at the diagram for several long moments without saying a word, then picked up a nearby brush, dipped it in one of the nearby cans of paint primer, and prepared to cover up her handiwork.

Red rose from his seat and came up behind her, snatching an arm about her waist. "What are you doing?"

"I don't need all of it, and I can't have others finding it."

When he could only frown in confusion, Rosalie smiled and leaned into him, "D'you know what my father used to tell me whenever I'd get overwhelmed with life's big problems?"

"What's that?"

He chuckled when she tossed the paint brush in the bin, affecting a deep, gruff voice as she did so.

" Just tease out the ends, rose petal. The rest will unravel. I don't need the whole plan, just where to begin and where I need to end up."

Raymond released her, insides twisting as the detailed plan disappeared behind a thick coat of white paint. "...He called you rose petal?"

"Yeah," she murmured, "I really miss hearing him call me that."

Something about the little endearment and the wistful note her voice lent to it touched Red to his core. He was forcibly reminded that Rosalie had once been an entirely different person, a young woman with a family who loved her.

"How old were you when-?" he hesitated, at once unsure if he was prying too far. Though Raymond had not seen his parents in years, he knew them both to be alive and well. He did not yet intimately know the pain of which she'd suffered.

"Twenty-two...I was twenty-two."

The dullness in those words made Red's chest ache. So young...so young to be dragged into this life. He had at least made it to his thirties before everything changed. Rosalie had barely been out of her teens when she was thrust into an impossible situation.

"I sometimes wonder," she said, thoughtfully, "If he would like the person I've become. If he would recognize her as the girl he'd so lovingly raised. I'm not sure, if I'm being honest."

"Do you regret the path you chose?" he asked, in truth fearful of her answer.

"No." Rosalie turned to look him in the eye, her countenance once again soft and serene. "It's not an easy path. It's not quiet simplicity, but between you and I that's never the life I wanted. The road I chose is a good one, and if given the chance, I'd choose it again."

"Yeah?"

He wanted to believe her, more than anything he wanted to believe this life would be enough to sustain her.

"Knowing you're somewhere along that path certainly helps," she added with a smile, "I can't imagine choosing another road."

Raymond's insides squirmed with delight; her gentle admissions never failed to catch him off-guard. He felt undeserving of them. Yet in the depths of his heart, he knew his soul cried out for such gentility, such loving tenderness as Rosalie so readily bestowed.

The thought had him turning her into his hold. His fingers curled greedily into the fine curls at the back of her neck, tilting her upturned face so he could press his lips to hers.

Rosalie leaned into him, kissing him deeper still. Soft hands smoothed up his waistcoat, draping themselves about his neck to bring him closer.

They stayed there for a long while, lips locked in a tender yet passionate embrace.

Loud footsteps carried down the hall all too quickly, and the two reluctantly broke apart. Rosalie whipped Red's handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabbed a smudge of lipstick from his mouth, a dimpling smile gracing her features before she stowed the square away with a playful wink.

Earl came barreling around the corner seconds later. "Ah, Red!" he boomed, "Good, good, you're here as well. I need another set of eyes on this property here...the Mademoiselle insists I can't have new construction."

Rosalie heaved a weary sigh. "I've told you a hundred times Earl, it's too conspicuous. The last new construction built here was back in the 70's. You do not want your new safe house plastered all over the local news as the first new home in nearly three decades." She gave Raymond an exasperated look and silently rolled her eyes.

"You were right," she muttered under her breath, "All that money and he can't buy an ounce of taste or sense."

Raymond grinned back at her in turn, placing a consoling hand at the small of her back as she began guiding him and King through the latest remodel.

Undisclosed Location - Manila, Philippines - February 14th, 2001

"See anything?"

"Not yet. The lights are on now, but there's no movement on the first floor."

Emma and Skip were staking out the safe house where the Jailbreaker was rumored to be hiding. The night's watch had been quiet, with narry a hint of anyone being inside the house, let alone moving about.

The latter was focused intently on the home's doors and windows, while the former sifted through a stack of immigration files nearly a foot high.

Skip gave the mound another sidelong glance, but was sidetracked by the baby bump upon which it rested. He leaned over the armrest, scrutinizing his partner with a look of utmost suspicion.

Knightley arched her brow at him. "What?"

"The little cherub," he blurted, pointing at her stomach, "Is it Reddington's? Is that why you've been so cross with him?"

"What? No ! I'm married, you prat!"

A shrug greeted this. "You don't have to be married to- Well, we've all just been wondering-"

"Wondering if I've been shagging our informant and decided to have his baby?" Emma finished for him, reaching over and punching his arm hard. " Really Skip?"

"Ow!" he complained, catching her small fist before she could wallop him again. "Alright, alright! I'll take your word for it...but if there's nothing going on there, then why do the two of you fight like cats and dogs?"

Emma jerked her hand back with a glower. "We're not fighting."

"Sure looked like it, love. Sounded like it, too. You ripped him up one end and down the other when we found out Doorley'd been intercepted in custody."

"Oh come off it, you know he had a hand in it!" Emma bemoaned, "Reddington wants to speak with Doorley, we tell him no, and the moment Doorley's out of the Cromwell he mysteriously disappears? It's got Red's name all over it."

Skip chuckled darkly.

"Oh, I don't doubt Reddy boy was the one responsible, but I don't think that's why you went off on the poor bloke. You've been miffed with him since that fugitive's ball back in December. I'd guess it were the hormones, but I don't want my lights knocked out."

"Skip," she sighed, "Let it go, alright?"

"Can't. Well... could ...but won't. Come on Knightley, tell us what happened. See something to ruffle your delicate sensibilities? Did Reddington get a little handsy after a few rounds of champagne? Is that why he gave you that special assignment? What is that stuff, anyway?"

Emma remained stoically silent.

Skip continued to needle until Emma was calculating just how many years she would have to serve if she shot him then and there. When she could stand it no longer, she threw her hands in the air and bellowed, "Fine! Alright, fine! They're bloody immigration documents, are you happy?"

"A bit." said he, craning his neck to look at the topmost sheet. "What does Reddington want with a bunch of German migrants?"

"The German he had us interrogate Doorley over, supposedly he migrated out of the U.K. sometime in '93. If we can figure out which one he was, we can figure out where he went, and supposedly that will help us pin down the Jailbreaker."

She protested when Skip nabbed a few sheets from the stack and began perusing them. "How the ruddy hell are you supposed to know which one's which?" he groused, holding up a file with a man who looked to be in his late twenties, bearing dark brown hair and a thin mustache. "Looks like my cousin Barty, this one."

Emma took the sheet and held it up beside Skip's face. "Yeah, that's the Sutherland forehead, I reckon."

A disgruntled, "Oi!" met this proclamation, sending her into a torrent of laughter.

" Neidhard Dorn ...he does look right familiar, doesn't he?" she murmured, squinting at the dour face. Shaking her head, she settled the file back into the stack without another thought. "Must be déjà vu, never met a Neidhard in my life. Bugger off now, will you? Sika should be here any moment, then you can badger all you want."

Skip heaved a long-suffering sigh but did as she bid, returning the binoculars to his eyes and scanning the quiet windows once more.

Rosalie's Jet - Pacific Ocean - February 15th, 2001

Rosalie stood bleary-eyed in the jet's galley, fixing two strong cups of coffee and doing her best not to wake Caroline or the others.

They were a little over half way through their flight back to Singapore, and the air in the cabin had been thick with an eerie quiet all the while. The meeting with Raymond had left a great deal on Rosalie's mind, and though she had promised to explain everything to Ted, she'd found herself without words the entire ride back to the airport.

The past eight hours had been spent deep in thought, committing her plan to memory and mentally cataloging every bit of intel she and Raymond had gathered in the past year.

Her men seemed to know she was on edge. If Rosalie didn't know better, she would have thought Horace knew precisely whom she'd really been meeting at the Big Bear property. He didn't say a thing, nor did Teddy, though she could feel their combined gaze following her from one end of the plane to the other when they thought she wouldn't notice.

The pair were currently dozing in their seats, but they would wake soon, and by that time Rosalie needed her path forward laid out.

Taking the steaming mugs in hand, she made her way into the cockpit.

"You can rest a little while longer Caroline, I haven't heard anyone up and ab- Oh! Good morning, Mademoiselle."

Rosalie had slid herself into the co-pilot's seat, and held out one of the mugs. "Good morning Otto, mind if I join you for a bit?"

"Not at all," said Otto, taking the cup and setting the jet to autopilot, "Is there something I can help you with, Mademoiselle?"

"You can start by calling me Rosalie." she said with a laugh, and he smiled sheepishly back at her.

"Apologies, Rosalie, old habits die hard."

They sipped their coffee in companionable silence, both looking out to the cloud-strewn horizon that was just tipping into dusk.

"How's the jet treating you?" Rosalie asked at last.

"Oh, it's great." he replied, "She flies like a dream."

"Good...good."

Rosalie didn't notice Otto's eyes on her, noting the dark circles beneath her own and the hunched tightness that had settled in her shoulders overnight.

"Rosalie..."

"Hm?" she replied, turning away from the horizon once more.

"Is everything alright?"

He looked rather worried now that Rosalie got a good look at him.

"It's just...you seldom come to the cockpit, and tonight your mind seems heavy."

A weary sigh all but confirmed his suspicions. When she looked up at him again, it was to find Otto's expression soft and understanding. His bearing was so much changed from before, Rosalie found herself wanting to trust him.

"Can I confide in you, Otto?"

He nodded. "Of course, Rosalie. You have my omertá, after all."

Rosalie's insides warred with themselves for several long moments before she finally admitted to her predicament. "You're the only one on this plane, save for Caroline, that wasn't there for any of this madness. You're the only one to whom I can go to without giving away my position. I know you and Horace are close-"

"Not that close." Otto stated flatly, a small grimace following the declaration. "Apologies, but the past year has made a complete ass of him. If you wish for me to keep your confidence from your guard, trust that it would be no hardship at all."

As though this was the confirmation she'd been waiting for, the truth poured from Rosalie's lips like a fountain. "There's a problem in the network. Basír is on the move, and between you and I, there looks to be a third associate squatting in my empty safe houses."

Otto straightened in his seat. "How do you know this?"

Rosalie regaled the full tale of what had happened with Doorley and Raymond's subsequent phone call.

"Did you catch him?" he asked hurriedly, "The third associate?"

"No," said Rosalie, and Otto gave a commiserating sigh. "I know. We hoped Doorley might have been mistaken, right up until the man answered Basír's burner."

"How do you know it was a third man who answered?"

"Basír is known to be of some Mediterranean or Middle Eastern country, and we know the German was a German national who spent some measure of his youth in London. This man's accent was nowhere near either. He sounded Eastern European; Belarus or Russia, we think."

"Hmm..." Otto grumbled, thinking hard, "I'd venture this third associate won't test the network twice, not now that he knows you're aware of the breach. The question is who's been feeding Basír the necessary intel in Doorley's absence?"

Rosalie chewed her bottom lip, wavering over how much to tell. "The third associate in concert with the compromised burners shortens the list of potential suspects exceedingly."

"...How short are we talking, Rosalie?"

"Two...maybe three."

He turned to look at her, brow crinkled with disbelief, "You suspect Horace and Ted, because they have the most access, but who could possibly be the third?"

"Cedric." said Rosalie, "Raymond is imploring me to suspect anyone with access, and the fact of the matter is Cedric knows more about my network and movements than Teddy and Horace combined."

"Rosalie," Otto's tone turned almost chiding, "You can't possibly believe Cedric would do such thing. Not like this; not to you."

"I had the exact same reaction. But the more I think about it, the more I cannot deny, Cedric could easily have provided all the necessary intel to get Basír where he wanted to go."

"Cedric Durant is a complicated man, but infinitely loyal. No one in Corsica could imagine him betraying you or Florian in such a way. If it must be someone close to you, I would sooner believe it of Ted or Horace."

"Will you help me, then?" she asked, "I need someone whom I can trust to uncover the truth. You're the only one who's completely separated from it all. You're the only one I can trust to be unbiased."

"You want me to investigate your guard?"

Rosalie nodded.

Otto mulled over the request for several minutes, finishing his coffee and setting the mug aside before giving his answer.

"What would you need me to do?"

"I need you to look into their comings and goings, and anyone they communicate with in the outside world. I have people who can tail them when they leave the safe houses, but I need someone to review all the findings and to be my eyes; someone Ted and Horace wouldn't even think to guard themselves against."

"Okay," he said at last, "I can do that. I can investigate them and do it quietly."

A massive sigh of relief left Rosalie.

"Thank you, Otto."

"It is my duty," he replied plainly, "If I can overstep once more, at the very least, Florian would advise you to seek out a new provider for your comms."

"I agree." said she, "I'm afraid Hermes has grown careless."

"May I suggest Corsica's provider? Their business is sound and discreet, and they would undoubtedly jump at the chance to service your empire as well."

Rosalie frowned.

"I admit, I've never even met with the Telegraph syndicate."

"No one has. Only Florian, Cedric, and Achille have access to Corsica's accounts at the Telegraph. Regardless of our shared belief in Cedric's innocence, for now it cannot hurt to keep him close."

"Very well. I'll call Cedric tonight, then."

"What will you tell your guard?" he asked, scratching his mustache.

"I need to confiscate their burners before they have a chance to wipe them clean," said Rosalie, "So I'll tell them enough of the truth to achieve that end. Hermes has been getting on in years, they won't question that I believe him to be slipping."

"When will you do so?"

She shrugged and rose from her seat.

"Now's as good a time as any."

Rosalie opened the cockpit door to find both men waiting in their usual seats. Ted was flipping through his notes, a cup of tea in one hand, a pen in the other. Horace had his feet up, scrolling lazily through his burner.

"Ted, Horace, join us in the cockpit."

The two guards looked up with a start. Each bore a somber frown, as though their doom lay waiting on the other side of the cockpit door.

They rose in tandem and filed into the confined space, Horace closing the door behind them.

"I need to brief you on an incident that happened the night before last." said Rosalie, wasting no time. She waved them to the flight attendants' seats, "Raymond called me with intel garnered from the Feds he's been bartering with. They managed to capture one of my property managers, an irishman named Ciaran Doorley."

"What on earth would they want with Doorley?" questioned Ted.

"According to Raymond, they had it on good word from an informant that Doorley was harboring criminals on the sly, namely a man called the Jailbreaker. We know him as Rodney."

"Reddington's the informant, no doubt." Horace grumbled under his breath, "Surely you're not going to give a client up to the Feds?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Firstly, Raymond would never turn informant, and secondly he knows Rodney's too important to jeopardize. Besides, he's not the one they're after. The Feds are hunting the Brothers Sionnach. Apparently they have him on retainer, and we all know they've been causing a real racket in the UK lately."

"The Brothers?" said Ted, sitting up in his seat, "...but they're in your network."

"And there they'll stay." said Rosalie, "I'll use them as a bargaining chip to protect Rodney if need be, but I'm not giving those Feds an inch if I can help it."

"Did Doorley give anything up?" asked Horace.

Rosalie shook her head, "No, but they did manage to get some damning intel from his personal effects."

Ted blanched. "How damning?"

"Enough to require the replacement of several safe houses. They breached a round dozen of the UK properties looking for the Brothers. Thankfully, none of the black sites were compromised."

"How many clients were seized in the sweep?"

"Not a one."

An enormous sigh of relief left Teddy at this.

"That's impossible." blurted Horace, brow set in an even deeper scowl, "A dozen safe houses and not one of them was occupied?"

"Doorley was known to be harboring clients on the sly." Otto interjected, "It would make sense that he would be carrying a list of empty properties on him."

Horace glared at the back of Otto's head, then looked to Rosalie for confirmation.

"Raymond confirmed MI6 confiscated a list from Doorley and breached the properties without his consult. It's a good thing, too. If they hadn't I would never have known that there's been a squatter in my network."

"We knew there were fugitives being harbored on the side, though, didn't we?" asked Ted, his expression bemused.

"We did, but the Cardiff safe house was marked as empty."

"So Doorley found someone to fill it." said Horace, "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that list wasn't the only thing found on Doorley. They had his burner, too."

"...What was in the burner?"

"The phone number for a Basír Ocee Maharaj."

A tense quiet settled over the cockpit.

Ted's eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "They didn't find him."

He said this with such confidence, Rosalie turned on him with a questioning brow.

"If Ray or the Feds captured Basír, we wouldn't be flying in the complete opposite direction." he reasoned with a shrug, "Either the number was a dud, or Basír slipped through their fingers. Is this why you met with Ray yesterday?"

Horace, who had grown uncharacteristically quiet during this whole exchange, finally found his voice again. "You said you were meeting with King."

Rosalie jutted her chin at his obstinate tone.

"I was, and I did. I simply met with Raymond beforehand."

"You didn't think to mention this?" he replied, coolly.

"I did, but I decided not to."

"Why, may I ask?"

"I needed answers."

"What kind of answers?"

"The kind only Raymond could provide."

"That still doesn't explain-"

"If you'd let me finish, I can tell you everything."

The cutting remark made Horace sit back in his seat.

Rosalie could tell that he was seething on the inside, but much to her surprise, he shut up at once. She crossed one leg over the other and took a deep, steadying breath.

Slowly, meticulously, she recited the lie she had spent the past twenty-four hours tweaking and rehearsing.

"In the middle of all that Bedlam, Red pilfered the number from MI6 and contacted Basír with the intent of tracing the call. I woke up to the tune of a dozen burners in the Phnom Penh cache, all ringing at once, loud enough to wake the whole damn house...When I went into the cache and answered one of the phones, I heard Raymond arguing with a man whose voice I'd never heard before."

"That's why you were on the floor of the cache that night?"

The worry in Ted's voice made Rosalie soften slightly. She nodded. "I was shocked, to say the least. I'm sorry I didn't tell you both what was going on, but as I said, I needed answers. I convinced Ray to meet me in California on some business, and when he arrived I demanded he explain why he was conversing with a stranger whose number somehow connected to every burner in my current safe house."

"What did he say?"

"He told me everything I just told you."

"Why would he allow that to happen?" asked Ted, still thoroughly confused. "Letting the Feds attack your empire hurts him as well."

"I was furious," she admitted, "But Raymond insisted they didn't tell him about the list of properties until they had already done the sweep. He assured me he would have warned me had he heard anything of the sort."

" Would he , Rosalie?" Horace's tone was dubious. "If Reddington knew he'd been found out, it's only natural he'd disavow any knowledge of what happened."

"I believe him, for now." Rosalie retorted, "I'm not a fool, Horace. I know not to take his word for face value, but Raymond has given me no reason to distrust him. That's all I have to lean on at the moment."

Horace was obviously struggling not to roll his eyes, but held his tongue.

Ted glanced nervously between the pair of them, then asked, "So...where do we go from here?"

Rosalie held out her hand. "Firstly, we're getting rid of the burners we have. I don't know how Basír's number got attached to the phones at the Phnom Penh safe house, but it's too coincidental. Obviously Hermes has gotten careless in his old age, and Basír took advantage. To ensure this doesn't happen again, I'm going to have Cedric provide me with Corsica's contact at the Telegraph syndicate. We'll have all new comms once the deal is complete. Until then, we can use the spares from the jet to make ends meet."

Both Ted and Horace hesitated a moment before reaching into their pockets and fishing out their devices, setting each gently in Rosalie's upturned palm.

"Thank you," she said with a sigh, "Hopefully with this small hiccup over with, we can get back to business. Ted, I'll meet you at the table in a few minutes."

Recognizing they were dismissed, the pair rose and exited the cockpit without another word.

Once the door was snapped shut once more, Rosalie extended her hand silently toward Otto, who took the burners and pocketed them.

"I have a man in Kuala Lampur who can trace the calls; if you can spare me and the jet for a few hours, I can have them to him by tomorrow evening."

"Do what you must." she replied, standing up and straightening her skirt. "I'm counting on you, Otto. If you can give me definitive proof of either party's guilt or innocence, I'll be sure to make it worth your while."

Otto gave a curt nod and switched the jet back to manual flight.

"Consider it done, Mademoiselle."

Raymond's Jet - Atlantic Ocean - February 15th, 2001

"The DC6 are poised outside the Manila safe house. Sika has relieved Knightley, and she and Agent Sutherland will move in the moment the Jailbreaker is in his transport." Dembe set the satellite phone on its dock, not looking at Red as he sidled away from the galley.

Raymond sighed at his back. The younger man had been moody and taciturn the entirety of their return flight. Even now, hours in, he flopped into the nearest seat with far less grace than usual, a deep scowl marring his normally stoic brow.

"Alright," said Red, pulling out a second bottle of beer and offering it to him. "What's wrong? It can't be that you're out of sweets, the kolaches have been gone for days. Out with it, what's got you in the ringer?"

Dembe frowned up at him from the book he'd chosen, but took the bottle anyway. "Why would you insinuate that Cedric is betraying Rosalie?" he asked, cracking the top and taking a dignified sip. "Do you really believe he could be capable of such a thing?"

Another sigh left Red. "Not really. Cedric and Rosalie are siblings in all but blood...but I can't shake the fact that out of everyone in Rosalie's circle, he's the best positioned to do the damage without getting caught. She would never, ever expect him."

"You forget this business with the German dates all the way back to Patrick's death in Munich. Cedric couldn't have possibly known that."

"He might've." said Red, "We don't really know the extent of his intel. He certainly knows enough of my business dealings to have gotten close to Howard Bukowski. Cedric knew all of our travel as it happened; he knew our location during the incident at Kimbilio, he knew where we were going to be in Colombia, and when. He was with Rosalie in Paris when the pictures of her and Josephine were taken. He eagerly inserted himself into our hunt for the German-"

"All of which can be attributed to proximity." insisted Dembe, "Without his relationship to Rosalie, Cedric would not know any of this."

Raymond scrubbed his face in his hand.

"Without his relationship to Rosalie, Cedric wouldn't have the motive to do it, either."

"What motive could he possibly have?"

"The only thing I can think of is a desire to get Rosalie away from me; to make it seem too dangerous to continue in my sphere. If he knew the German was after Rosalie to get to me, he may have offered assistance to ensure her own safety."

Dembe set his drink aside, still frowning at the bottle. "I still cannot see him doing such a thing. If Cedric encountered someone intent on capturing or harming Rosalie, he would be honest with her. I have no doubt of this."

"Perhaps." Red sighed and plucked the burner and his book from the table, "Until we know for sure, we can't give Cedric Durant a free pass. We'll see what Kate and Baz uncover with Hermes first, but I'm not getting my hopes up."

Dembe gave a solemn nod, but still looked a bit bad-tempered. "Surely the two of you must be close to finishing that book?'

Raymond chuckled, flipping through the dog-eared pages of The Age of Innocence to find their ending spot. "Three chapters left is all. We might very well finish it tonight. Let me know when the DC6 makes contact again."

Without another word, he exited the galley and made for his usual seat, dialing Rosalie as he went.

' "... I couldn't have spoken like this yesterday, because when we've been apart, and I'm looking forward to seeing you, every thought is burnt up in a great flame. But then you come; and you're so much more than I remembered, and what I want of you is so much more than an hour or two every now and then, with wastes of thirsty waiting between, that I can sit perfectly still beside you, like this, with that other vision in my mind, just quietly trusting it to come true." '

It was an hour later and Raymond lay draped across the settee, his copy of the Warton text held open above his head, illuminated by a flimsy clip-on light so as not to wake Dembe.

"When can I see you again?" he asked his companion, closing the book for the night. The text had left him with an ache that only her presence could soothe.

"You'll see me soon," was her reply, though an indulgent smile could easily be heard in those words.

"You still haven't told me what your plan is with the Jailbreaker."

"You just worry about your side of things, I'll handle mine."

"Well, keep in mind if MI6 gets within capturing distance, you and I won't be able to save him. I used my last droplets of their patience to get Ciaran Doorley out of custody."

"And I do so appreciate that." Rosalie tittered, her own copy of the text flipping shut as well. "Ciaran's settled with his family in a cozy little desk job. I'm a woman of my word; he was loyal when it mattered most."

Raymond smirked. "You're avoiding the question, little dove."

"Perhaps I simply believe there are far more interesting topics to be getting on with," she teased.

He was just about to ask precisely what topics were buzzing about her pretty little head when a rattling sound reached his ear.

A gasp followed the noise. "Oh shit…it's Rodney."

The line went stone silent, but in the distance Red could hear a frantic voice issuing from another burner.

Rosalie's voice replied in short, brusque bursts.

"What the hell happened?"

"Again?"

"Where are you? Are you safe?"

"I have men in the area, they can slip you out via the port."

"Now will you let me- oh for the love of god, Rodney!"

"No, I'm not losing another safe house to this foolishness. Either you sequester in the black site network or I'm dropping you as a client, I've had enough-"

"Fine! Fine…but not one day more, do you understand?"

Raymond rose to his feet and made for the rear of the jet, slipping behind his office door without a sound.

The line had gone silent, not even a breath carried through the connection for several seconds.

"...Rosalie?"

At last, a deep sigh reached his ears.

"Sorry, I had to move up towards the cockpit, Teddy was lingering a little too close by. One of Rodney's men was killed in a shoot-out between them and MI6, but he and his bodyguard managed to give them the slip. One of your men has a small bullet wound as well."

"Which one?"

"I dunno, some bean pole of a man."

"That'll be Skip…"

"From the sound of it, his arm was just grazed. He'll be fine."

"What about Rodney? What did he say?"

Rosalie huffed. "Begged me to set up another safe house for him, which I refused to do until he committed to going dark."

"I heard." said Red, "Did he finally agree, or are we preparing for another round of whack-a-mole?"

"He agreed. March second he'll be moving from my safe house in Da Nang to a black site in Huế. I'll send you the coordinates for the safe house, and where to chase him so that I can intercept."

Raymond jotted down the date and the coordinates as they came through. "That's alright, I'll have things ready on my end. What about you and your guard? I don't want you getting in a gun fight with MI6…"

"We won't." she promised, sounding reasonably confident. "I'm playing this one close to the chest, I'm afraid. The less you and Dembe know, the less Rodney will suspect we're working together. If I know the man at all, he'll find my presence suspect no matter what, so we need to do a good job of convincing him we aren't moving in tandem."

"So…just chase him to the square?" Red frowned down at the note, distrustful of the simplicity of his side of the equation.

"Just chase him to the square." Rosalie agreed, "My people will be in place to pull Rodney into the fold and keep the Feds out. That's all you need to know."

Rosalie's Townhouse - Paris, France - March 1st, 2001

The next two weeks passed in a blur. Raymond and Rosalie had barely spoken in the interim, each occupied with their own side of the upcoming altercation while managing their respective empires.

The day before Rodney's move to the black site saw the former descending the stairs of her Parisian townhouse two at a time, eager to get moving.

"I've got the car warmed up, Rose." Teddy held out his hands for her suitcase and overnight bag, which she gratefully handed over.

"Thank god for that," she huffed, "It's still freezing here; so much for spring..."

"We need to hurry if we're going to miss the blizzard that's supposed to be coming."

"Five minutes, and I'll be out the door!" Rosalie called, hurrying into the office to make a quick currency exchange and weapons pull from her private cache. A roll of freshly-sharpened kunai knives had just joined her loaded Beretta and Browning on the desk when a voice issued from the doorway.

"Rosalie?"

She tugged the panel to the cache halfway shut, peering suspiciously around its edge at the interloper. It was Otto.

"Edward's mechanic managed to get hold of those backordered parts for the thrust reversal system." he said, "He's en route to Paris. He, Horace, and I could have it ready to go by the time you get back if you take Marietta's jet to Vietnam instead. I already checked and she can spare both the jet and Caspian for your use."

Rosalie grimaced, reached into the safe, and swapped out a few thousand Francs for a fresh stack of Vietnamese Dong. "Now's not a good time, I'm afraid. I've gathered my security in Huế on the off chance the negotiations with the chairman of land and rivers gets contentious. I need Horace on the ground-"

Otto's voice dipped low so the others wouldn't overhear, "Do you really want Horace there in the thick of whatever you have planned with Reddington?"

She spun on her heel, sharp eyes snapping to his face, warning the man not to utter another word. "How in the hell did you-?"

"You've developed a bad habit of taking Red's calls near the cockpit." Otto replied with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "I happened to catch the end of your conversation about the Jailbreaker as I was coming back from the loo."

Rosalie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Shit..."

"Listen, I don't want to step on your toes. Obviously do what you need to do," Otto made a buttoning gesture towards his lips, "I won't be telling a soul what I overheard. I'm merely saying that in an altercation between a battalion of criminals and a bunch of feds, the last person I would want involved is a sour grape like Horace Jabare."

A few seconds past as she considered the matter, closing the safe and the cache as she did so. "...You think Horace would do something?"

Otto shrugged. "I think he'd be sorely tempted to send a little friendly fire in Reddington's direction. Whether he'd actually go through with it, I'm admittedly not so sure. I merely thought that I'd stumbled upon a ready-made opportunity for you to sideline him that would kill two birds with one stone, so I came to see if you were interested."

A renewed sigh greeted this, for Rosalie knew Otto was right. She and Horace were always toeing the limits of each others' patience these days, perhaps it would be best to keep him out of the fray until the exchange was over.

"Horace!" she bellowed, and the man came running.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reaching the doorway and glaring reproachfully at Otto.

"Nothing. Otto needs a hand with a repair to the jet, I need you to stay and help him and the mechanic get things up and running."

Horace's brow puckered into a scowl. "I don't think that's a good idea. The meeting in Huế-"

"Marietta's jet is already available for my use," Rosalie replied, "I have plenty of extra security on the ground, I would like you to stay and help Otto so we can head straight for the states once I get back."

"I should be with you." he said, refusing to budge. "We have plenty of men in Paris who can assist Otto."

Rosalie shook her head. "With the German afoot? I don't trust any of them to be involved. I need you here."

"She's right." said Otto, "I wouldn't trust anyone outside the four of us, and Teddy's her right hand; he can't leave her side."

Horace bristled. "I don't like this."

"You don't have to like it," Rosalie replied, shoving her firearms into their respective holsters and throwing on her coat. "I just need you to do it."

She swept past him without another word, and Otto followed closely on her heels.

When they reached the foyer, he pulled an umbrella from the nearby rack and swung the door wide, making his initial sweep before opening the umbrella and extending an arm for Rosalie to take.

"Keep an eye on him." she advised in a low murmur, "I know all the phone records came back clean, but don't let that put your guard down. We still don't have definitive proof either he or Ted is innocent."

"Oui. You as well." Otto dropped her arm to open the car door for her. "Safe travels, Mademoiselle. I will alert you to any developments."

She smiled softly up at him. "Thank you, Otto. For everything."

"It is nothing." he assured, smiling back at her as he closed the door and rapped smartly on the car's trunk, sending them on their way.

Red's Jet - Bangladesh Airspace - March 2nd, 2001

"Don't trouble yourself Darla, I can handle the ruffians."

Red had just sidled up to the jet's galley where his flight attendant stood fixing a fresh pot of tea for the four stowaways joining them on the long flight.

"They've been no trouble at all, Mr. Reddington." Darla handed him the pot with a smile, "This one's honey ginger, hopefully it'll settle the stomach of that peaky one in the corner."

He chuckled and took the offered pot, sparing a surreptitious glance for 'the peaky one in the corner'.

Emma Knightley was seated glumly alongside Sika, Ezra, and Skip, who were huddled over a map of downtown Huế. While the others were coordinating their plan of attack for the following morning, Emma gave her latest stack of immigration files a half-hearted shuffle and gazed longingly toward the heavily notated map.

"By the by...did Edward get ahold of Rosalie?"

"Yes," said Darla, bending to sift through the refrigerator's contents. "She was so sweet about it, too. Her helicopter will be waiting on the helipad when we arrive."

"Is she already in Huế?" he asked in a low voice, "Dembe didn't see her jet's tags reach the air traffic database yet."

A small carafe of milk was eased into his free hand. "Yeah, she's already there. Just her and Ted this time. Otto reached out to Ed about a week ago looking for advice on some thruster or another that was on back order. I guess they've been putting some serious miles on the new Bombardier, and he wanted to stay ahead of the repairs. Ed sent our mechanic to Paris the day before yesterday to help with the replacements. He figured you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all. I take it she borrowed Marietta's jet, then?"

"I'm surprised she didn't bum a ride from you..."

The sly tone in Darla's voice made Raymond turn back around. She was smirking to herself as she hooked the handles of four fresh cups onto her slender fingers.

He tutted for her amusement. "I didn't peg you for a gossip, Dar."

"I'm not." she replied, perfectly unfazed. "Neither am I oblivious."

Another bright, mischievous smile quirked her lips when she turned to wink at him. "Just let me know when I need to start ordering lavender tea and other amenities for the missus."

Red chuckled and shook his head, refusing to dignify the comment with a reply.

They set the refreshments in the center of the table to a chorus of gratitude from its occupants. As Darla moved to join Edward in the cockpit once more, Raymond leaned in and murmured "On second thought, keep the lavender tea on standby, and a fresh bottle of Himbrimi, just in case."

Darla tittered behind her hand and gave a gentle nod before leaving the cabin. Off, no doubt, to place an order with their provisioner.

Raymond smiled to himself and took the seat between Emma and Sika. "Well, where are we?"

The three agents quickly descended into explaining their latest and greatest plan of attack. Red only halfway listened, his focus pulled away by the sulking creature next to him.

Emma had been positively irate since being barred from chasing the Jailbreaker, going so far as to ignore the demand and insist Red didn't have the authority to take her out of the field.

Unfortunately for her, Bazalgette had taken his side on the matter, agreeing it was standard procedure to pull expecting agents from the field rather than face any legal repercussions for the loss of an unborn child.

The ensuing silent treatment had lasted the past several weeks, only relenting when Raymond agreed that Emma could run reconnaissance on the team's upcoming swipe at the Jailbreaker. True to her word, she continued to give him the cold shoulder the whole flight through, even as he sat directly beside her.

Raymond couldn't bring himself to be upset by this. Kate Kaplan's continued chastising, on the other hand, had made him significantly more benevolent.

"-then we'll gun it into the square." concluded Sika, "Whereupon Skip will cut off their exit. Ezra will be coming in from the East as a backup since we won't have eyes on the ground."

"You won't have eyes on the ground," agreed Red, "but you'll have them in the air. Have Ezra bring up the rear so the Jailbreaker can't retreat."

"What?" said Skip, "Who's in the air?"

"Agent Knightley, of course."

Knightley dropped half her stack of files on the floor.

"...Me?"

Red bent to help retrieve them. "Is there another Agent Knightley I don't know about?"

"You said Emma couldn't be in the field!" Ezra accused, coming to her defense at once. "Now you've just gone and waffled on it when she could have been with us this whole time?"

A small, grateful smile tugged at the corner of Emma's mouth when Sika and Skip too voiced their disapproval.

"My decision still stands." Raymond smirked, "For the safety of herself and her unborn child, Agent Knightley won't be among the boots on the ground; I said nothing about the air."

"Wait, really?"

It was the first time Emma had spoken directly to him in weeks. He turned to find her utterly gobsmacked.

"An associate has been kind enough to lend me her new Sikorsky, no questions asked." he replied, "Edward's agreed to fly you personally. You'll be an integral part of the sweep, but safely above the fray."

Raymond shifted his attention back to the group, pursing his lips over the newest iteration of their map. "Definitely put Ezra at the back. This street on the right hand side will be occupied."

"By who?"

"Me."

"What-?"

The discussion was derailed when Dembe stepped back into the main compartment, closing the door to the rear cabin with a loud snap. All eyes turned toward him.

"Mr. King." he grumbled under his breath, casting an annoyed look at his employer.

"Dammit." Red rose from his seat and followed his guard to the rear of the plane, "What's he done now?"

"Chucho managed to resolve the matter, but Earl needs to stop angering the Bolivians if he wants to make it out of the Alto Plano alive."

A stack of notes relaying the contraband Chucho had to part with in order to secure their exit from a rebel checkpoint was thrust into Raymond's hand. He tutted to himself. "I should've known better; that much money just breeds stupidity…when's Rosalie set to be finished with him?"

"Ted mentioned the last two safe houses were completed from the exterior. He expects they might finish an entire month ahead of schedule."

"Good."

"She is eager to finish the work." Dembe intimated, "Rosalie has said herself that King is demanding and foolhardy. He puts her operation at risk."

"I don't disagree." sighed Red, "See if Chucho doesn't have any contacts we can lean on in Bolivia; the sooner we're rid of King, the better off we'll be as well-"

A throat cleared from the doorway, and both men turned to find Emma Knightley standing awkwardly at the threshold, one hand resting protectively on her abdomen.

"D'you have a moment?"

Dembe took one of the spare burners and gave them both a nod, seeing himself out.

"Is everything alright?" Red asked, once he and Knightley were alone.

Emma drummed her fingers atop her stomach, lips pursed in a rueful frown.

"I didn't think when you demoted me to reconnaissance you meant zooming along in a helicopter."

Raymond barely managed to withhold a sigh. "I thought you'd be pleased."

"I am…" she said, "Immensely…it's just-"

"I won't allow you to be relegated to desk duty, Emma."

Something akin to understanding passed between them, easing the tension in the room by several degrees.

"You really won't, won't you?"

There was a note of surprise to her words that made Raymond frown.

"I promised you the life you wanted. I apologize if I didn't make this clear before, but I don't go back on my word, Agent Knightley. You wanted a family and a career as an agent, you're well on your way to having both."

She blushed when he gave a nod toward the still-small curve of her belly.

"You really had me going there for a bit, d'you know that? I thought I'd never see the outside of a cubicle..."

"I have a bit of a soft spot for the unwanted." Red admitted, "When I thought you were being careless I— I misjudged the situation. You have my apologies."

Emma released long, slow breath out through her nose. Her bright blue eyes met his, rapidly welling with emotion.

"Well," she sniffed, giving a curt, that's that sort of nod, "Good. Don't er- don't do that again."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips at her swift change in mood, and Red was confident she was going to berate him again when the burner on the desk jangled loudly, drawing their combined attention.

"Duty calls," he said, pleased when a relieved little smile broke through the gloom which had marred Knightley's features for the past several weeks.

"...Thanks again, Red."

"Emma?"

She paused, halfway turned towards the door. "Hm?"

"The immigration files," Raymond did his best to keep his tone casual, "Have you had any luck?"

His hopes were dashed when she gave a noncommittal shrug.

"To be honest, I don't have much to go off of. There's roughly a thousand German nationals from that time frame that match your man's description, and a third of them can't be traced after they arrived in the country. For all I know, it could be any of them."

Raymond hadn't expected much from the search. Emma was right, looking for the German in that stack of cases was worse than trying to find a needle in a haystack, but still, he found himself disappointed.

"Start with the third whose trails have gone cold." he said, "The man we're looking for is more likely to be in that group than any other. Perhaps Dembe can review with you on the way back? He might spot someone we recognize."

Emma tilted her head. "Will it matter? I mean, once we've caught the Jailbreaker, we won't really need to look for this German fellow, will we?"

Red's teeth caught at the inside of his cheek. "Perhaps not for the Jailbreaker," he conceded, prodding the spot with his tongue, "But the German would be a worthy target nonetheless."

"Hmm...alright, then. I'll talk to him after the sweep."

She left the room, and no sooner had the door closed at her back when the burner beside him rang loudly once more. Upon opening it he was greeted by a loud, irate voice.

" 'Her colour burned deeper, but she held his gaze her blue eyes wet with victory. "No; I wasn't sure then—but I told her I was. And you see I was right!" ' ...Are you kidding me?!"

Red laughed heartily at the obvious disappointment in Rosalie's recitation. "You little imp, you jumped ahead."

"May's pregnant?"

"Don't change the subject." he chastised with delight, "You're reading without me, that's what you get."

Her little scoff brought another wide grin to his lips.

"The story would have been the same with or without your involvement and it's been weeks, I was dying to know what happened next..."

His lips pursed somewhere between a frown and a smirk. "Mhm..."

"Oh hush," she grumbled, "Don't give me that pout, either."

"I'm not pouting."

"You're definitely pouting, but I can also hear that you're more than a little amused by my antics, so I expect you to forgive me."

Raymond took to his chair, smiling indulgently in spite of himself. He too was confident he would give into her demands, but it was no fun if he was the only one forced to kneel. "Oh you do, do you? What if I'm not in a forgiving mood, little dove?"

"Pfft. We both know I can pull you right out of it...as soon as you tell me whether May really is pregnant."

"You want me to condone your snooping with spoilers?"

"It's that or I'm gonna read the rest without you, and I need to get my beauty sleep for tomorrow."

"Beauty sleep, hmm? You certainly don't need much of that."

The brazen certainty with which he uttered the compliment managed to disarm his companion for a few seconds, a small tittering laugh echoing over the line before she was on him again.

"C'mon darling, tell me the truth...is May really pregnant, or did she just tell Ellen that to get her to back down?"

"...Yes."

Raymond chuckled when she heaved a long-suffering sigh in his ear.

"You brute. You aren't going to elaborate, are you?"

"You'll find out when we read the next chapter, my dear."

"Raymond..."

"Rosalie..."

"Pretty please?"

"What's in it for me?"

Another heavy sigh had him grinning from ear to ear.

"Tomorrow," Rosalie grumbled, "If you and Dembe park on the side street that's three blocks in from the square's right-hand side, around one o'clock, you'll be able to see everything as it happens."

Red sat up a little at this. "As what happens?"

"Nope. That's all you get for a nickel. Be there or be square."

He gave a huff, but after a bit more pleading was true to his word. "They have a son."

"Nooo..." Rosalie bemoaned, flopping onto what sounded like her bed as Raymond continued to laugh. "Now Newland and Ellen will never be together!"

"Someone's awfully eager to toss aside a man's marriage."

"Loveless marriage." he was corrected, "Frankly, he shouldn't have married May in the first place, but if there was ever an amiable reason for reconsidering one's commitments, falling in love with someone better suited to oneself would have to be it...What's this?"

A page turned, and Rosalie could be heard muttering to herself as she scanned his notations. "Aha! See? You agree with me. Page 352. You called him a...a 'Lead-headed dolt.' "

Raymond snorted, recalling he did in fact call Newland a dolt, and he stood by that deduction. Though, come to think of it, he hadn't thought so ill of him the first time he'd read the story.

It'd been during the recovery period of Red's first reconstructive surgery, a time where every drop of energy he possessed had been commandeered for the task of piecing himself back together. Books and music had been his sole companions, as neither required much physical effort, and friends were few on the ground.

He had clung to this particular text, in his youthful naïveté, thinking it a sign from some higher power that he had chosen the right path; that his sacrifice would be his redemption. Time and experience had disabused him of such notions...Mostly.

Rosalie, noticing how quiet he'd become, set the book aside. "What's on your mind, love?"

"I saw this story differently the first time I read it." he admitted, now frowning at the tome as though it had personally affronted him.

"When did you first read it?"

"'91…'92? Sometime thereabouts."

"Tell me about it."

Raymond hesitated for the space of a breath. Though long past the point in his life where he might accidentally divulge any secrets, it still wasn't second nature for him to be open about certain things. That time of his life was tumultuous, to say the least. Messy. Chaotic. The loneliness and fear Red went through still plagued him some nights. He craved to confide it all to Rosalie, his fervid little protector and confidante. God knows he wanted to...

But, he couldn't. Not everything.

"I was a very, very young fugitive then. I didn't have a clue what I was doing; I was bound up in a lot of things."

"How did you see Mr. Archer and his love triangle then?" she asked, the epitome of patience as he cautiously pieced together his response.

"I thought his would-be dalliance with Elen Olenska was a monumental betrayal to the woman to whom he'd promised his life." Red frowned and shut his eyes, trying to hold onto the details of that memory.

The smell of the log fire; the heat of it on his skin.

Wind whistling through the cabin.

A familiar voice cutting the quiet.

'You'd do that? All of that, just to protect Masha? You're giving up your life.'

'My life hasn't been worth much else, Katya; I can't imagine a higher calling. I'll safeguard her through every peril. I'll be the shadow at her back, keeping her safe from all who may come. Let me do that for her. For you.'

Raymond shook his head roughly, casting the intrusive memory back into the recesses of his mind. "I thought he walked into that relationship with eyes wide open, but now...now I think he was misguided. The endless expanse of one's life stretching before them in abject uncertainty is enough to make anyone think twice. I thought he was right to choose duty and the life he knew. That way, at least, he would know what to expect. It felt honorable at the time."

"But in doing so, he gives no allotment for the things which simply happen upon a person." Rosalie reminded gently, something in her tone bringing a renewed smile to his lips. He thought of the only thing which had ever made him waver on his promise:

"Love."

"That's the one." she agreed, " I don't think he considered that."

"I don't think anyone can plan for it." Raymond admitted, thinking of their own relationship and how it had blossomed seemingly out of nowhere.

Rosalie laughed that soft, gentle laugh. "No, you're certainly right about that…So, you believed he was right in staying with May?"

"I did, from the perspective of duty, but mostly because of the child."

"Ah, a child changes everything, don't they?"

He stared up at the ceiling, awash with recollections of all that had changed when Katarina found out she was pregnant. His head swam with memories of how calloused she had been at first, and how different she was after seeing her little girl for the first time. He recalled the awe he too had felt when that little bundle was placed in his arms.

"Back then, I thought it was the least he could do. He was duty-bound to keep up whatever charade his life had become, because the child needed him. The child had to take precedence."

Red grew quiet, struggling to separate the story from his lived experience.

"...and now?"

He thought for a long moment, his insides twisting in an uncomfortable knot.

Raymond's mind insisted to admit his misgivings was to betray himself; to confirm

"Now I think May trapped him using the child. When she told Ellen she was pregnant, she wasn't actually sure it was true, she was just ensuring Ellen would back down. She didn't do it for love, she did it to keep herself comfortable, to ensure her idyllic little world was safe. Newland's life was an easy sacrifice for her. It was his own attachment to nobility and his good name that kept him there. He was more concerned about his own glorious sacrifice than the reality of a life lived entirely for and at the mercies of another."

"Hmm..." sighed Rosalie, "You're right, he is a bit of a dolt."

The dry comment brought a laugh to Red's throat.

"To be fair," she added, "He's a noble dolt. May seemed the lone victim in all this until she took that route. Honestly, I'm surprised she had that kind of manipulation in her."

An uncomfortable weight settled in Red's chest, and he found himself trying to soothe it out of habit. "She was afraid;" he defended, "Her entire world was crumbling in on itself."

Rosalie could be heard humming to herself.

"It's perfectly reasonable for her to be afraid. What's perfectly unreasonable is her believing that fear warranted manipulating the man she supposedly loved into staying with her."

"You're quite the Newland apologist." Raymond noted, habitually chewing the inside of his cheek. "What happened to his having an emotional affair?"

"Oh I stand by that." she sighed, "He was having an emotional affair. His behavior with Ellen showed he was truly in love with her; he still has integrity in my book."

"That makes a difference for you? Whether love played a factor?"

"Love is rare."

Her gentle whisper seemed to filter through the intervening years, reaching the dying embers of the man he'd once been.

"Love is so rare, and I think he'd be a fool not to chase it when it's within reach."

"A fool." Red agreed with a smile, "Fool indeed."

Da Nang Square - Da Nang, Vietnam - March 2nd, 2001

"They're in position." said Dembe, dabbing a bit of sweat from his brow and pulling out another earpiece for Raymond.

The man took it as he doffed his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, eager for a reprieve from the balmy heat. When he put the device to his ear, Sika's dulcet tones could be heard narrating the Jailbreaker's every move.

"Movement detected in first floor windows. Target spotted. Hold for intercept."

"Cracking!" crowed Ezra.

"Let's get on with it." said Skip.

Emma could just be heard over the heavy thump-thump of the chopper, "Right!"

"They're eager."

Raymond turned to see Dembe still at his elbow, dark, worried eyes fixed on the center of the square.

"What do we do if they manage to catch the Jailbreaker?"

"They won't." Red assured, turning down the sound of the agents' chatter. "I don't know what Rosalie has up her sleeve, but she's adamant he won't be taken. I'm afraid we're going to have to trust her on this one."

"It is dangerous." said Dembe, "For her, and for the DC6."

"It's necessary. Rodney won't take all of this lightly. To convince him of her own innocence, Rosalie can't have the exchange go too smoothly. Saving face will both ensure her continuity and endear her to the man."

"I still do not like it. There are too many variables. Someone could get hurt."

Raymond shrugged. "Every decision has its variables. Rosalie is adept at out-maneuvering them. Everything will be fine."

The two made their way to the edge of the large crossroads, just out of sight of the square's mouth, where the agents would soon be corralling the Jailbreaker's fleeing vehicle. They could see everything, just as Rosalie had promised.

Excitement swelled in Red's chest. Now, all they had to do was wait.

The Da Nang Safe House

"You're sure the road is clear? You're absolutely sure?"

The question echoed ominously in the Da Nang safe house's tall ceilings. The space had been eerily quiet the past two days, its newest occupants hardly even turning on the lights for fear that the shadows on their tail might take notice.

"I've swept the surrounding area three times, sir. There's nobody in the vicinity that shouldn't be."

Rodney looked to his guard with a countenance that belied his lack of faith in the proceedings. "That's what Hank said, and he paid for it with his life. Perhaps we should do one more sweep, Bartol."

Bartol heaved a weary sigh, the action rippling his mustache. "Sir, I fear another sweep would be the one that exposes us. The best thing we can do is get into the Citadel's black site network as soon as possible."

A disgruntled noise met this, but Rodney reluctantly agreed. "Very well, let's get on with it."

The pair stepped out of the building five minutes later, hats pulled low and collars turned up to hide themselves from view. They boarded their transport in total silence, breathing a tandem sigh of relief when the engine turned over and the towncar took to the main road. Nothing was out of place. The city was as quiet as could be expected for mid-day.

They made it less than a block before a pair of black suv's swooped in on their flank.

"God damn you, Bartol!" Rodney roared, wide-eyed and furious as the larger vehicles started gaining on them.

The burner in the front seat jangled noisily. Bartol tossed it to the back without letting up on the gas.

Rodney opened it and caught a familiar voice issuing from within. "Don't leave the house! Don't leave the house!"

"It's too late." he growled, "They're already on our tail."

"Dammit. Fine, fine, just keep moving, follow the main drag toward the town square. I have a team waiting to intercept."

"How-?" he began, but thought better of it when one of the suv's nudged the tail of their car. "Make for the square, Bartol! There's help there."

Bartol punched the accelerator, making a break between two other vehicles as they pelted in the direction of safety.

Behind them, the engines roared in pursuit.

Da Nang Square

"They are on him." said Dembe, "The Jailbreaker is heading straight for the square. They are a minute away, maybe less."

Red huffed and looked around the crossroads, as though a hint of Rosalie's plan might make itself known.

Nothing stood out, save for the sound of tires screeching in the distance.

A sickening crunch echoed from the southern edge of the square, then a battered black sedan came toppling end over end into view. It skidded to a halt upside down three quarters of the way across the square.

"Son of a bitch…" said Red, peering around the edge of their lane to take in the wreckage.

Skip Sutherland's transport lay on its side at the square's entry, haloed in broken glass and gushing oil and gasoline onto the hot pavement.

To Raymond's surprise, the agent hoisted himself gingerly out of the passenger's side window seconds later, his service weapon in hand and bright red rivulets of blood trickling from his forehead and nose.

Red turned to Dembe, and murmured sotto voce: "He's tougher than a box of nails, I'll give him that."

Dembe nodded his agreement.

Sika whipped into the square right behind Skip, pulling over to confirm he was alright. He waved her off, staggering obstinately toward the center of the square.

The silent observers continued to wait, poised on tenterhooks for some sign of life from the totaled sedan.

Finally, an arm extended from the rear passenger window. Raymond winced as the hand connected to it dug its fingers into the layer of shattered glass covering the asphalt.

The man Red recognized as the Jailbreaker scrambled from the wreckage, dragging his guard with him. He was shorter than Raymond remembered, and his ashy blonde hair had gone snowy in a few places, but it was definitely him.

"MI6!" Sika shouted, "Hands where I can see them!"

"Raymond, what should we do?"

Dembe was staring at him, waiting for direction.

"Wait." he replied, though not as confident as he had been up until that point.

Skip and Sika were nearly halfway across the square. The chopper could be heard thumping loudly overhead. Then-

Two large suv's blew through the opposite end of the square, hurtling into the middle of the crossroads to stop in a wedge formation that left two six-tonne bullet proof barriers between the Jailbreaker and MI6. A blur of gunmetal cut across the center of the fray.

A slight figure leaned recklessly out of the g-wagon's back seat, one leg slung over the window's edge and their right hand curled tightly around...

"Is…is that a Molotov cocktail?" Red hissed, "What in the hell-?"

Dembe shoved a pair of binoculars into his hands. "Look who it is."

Bringing the device eye level, Red focused on the still-drifting vehicle. A shock of gold crossed his vision, and he knew the culprit at once.

He didn't need to see the full extent of Rosalie's silhouette, nor the gleeful, mischief-laden smile on her lips to recognize it was her leaning out of that car.

With a deft flick of her wrist, she hurled the cocktail across the square to shatter dead center in the pool of liquid left by Skip's totaled transport. Fire exploded in every direction from that spot, setting the liquid ablaze and tearing its way toward its source.

Skip and Sika watched the bottle soar through the air with wide eyes, turning at the last moment as they were forced to make a break for cover. They made it behind Sika's SUV just in time for Skip's to blow, sending the wreckage a foot or two in the air before falling with a fresh crash.

Ezra had come pelting into the middle of the chaos. He pulled his transport in front of Sika's, providing them a makeshift foxhole from which to fire at their adversaries.

Raymond stood frozen as Rosalie's vehicle completed its arc, bringing his little arsonist within view of their hiding spot.

She caught sight of him, grinning impishly and blowing a covert kiss as she passed.

"You little hellcat." he chuckled, lowering the binoculars and shaking his head for her amusement.

Ted could be seen in the driver's seat, whipping the vehicle into a hard left and gunning for the center of the fold.

Rosalie's security popped out of their sunroofs and laid down a blanket of heavy fire, taking out the tires and windows in the MI6 transports.

"Rodney!"

The g-wagon screeched to a halt and Rosalie flung the door wide, waving the Jailbreaker into safety while the agents were distracted.

Raymond watched as Rodney dove into the open vehicle, his guard close behind and cradling a blood-soaked arm to his chest.

Without warning, the world went black.

Some kind of cloth covering had been jammed over Red's head, muffling his shout of indignation. Rough hands caught his arms, wrenching them behind his back before he knew what was happening.

A low shout on his right told him the same had happened to Dembe.

Tires screeched to a halt somewhere behind them, accompanied by the smell of burning rubber.

Zip ties were cinched tight around Red's wrists, keeping him from fighting back as his weapon was confiscated and he was shoved bodily into the waiting vehicle. Dembe's bulk was thrust against him seconds later, and the two had no more than righted themselves when the driver slammed on the accelerator, taking off in the opposite direction and sending them toppling once more.

Undisclosed Location - Da Nang Outskirts

Red finally managed to sit upright, wedging himself in a corner of the backseat to avoid being pitched around with every turn.

The vehicle had taken off in the opposite direction of the square at speed, and though he tried to keep track of their heading, he quickly got disoriented when they hurtled through a series of what felt like roundabouts.

A foot nudged his own.

"How many?" Red whispered, as low as he could.

"Five." said Dembe, "Four and one driver."

"Shut up!"

The voice issued from somewhere in front of them. A rough hand reached back and shoved Red to one side and Dembe to the other.

"No talking!"

The man and his comrades conversed rapidly in Vietnamese. Raymond struggled to decipher the accent's origin.

"…Saigon?" he guessed.

"Hanoi." Dembe replied.

Red was about to question further when the car slammed on the breaks, throwing them bodily into the backs of the front seats.

Their captors disembarked and immediately ripped the rear doors wide. The two were then hoisted from the floor and dragged back out into the muggy heat. Metal clanged loudly all around them.

The hands forced them upright, shoving them in the desired direction.

Raymond rushed to get his feet under him. The cloth over his face was growing damp from his ragged breaths, the sensation stifling and suffocating with every step.

He recognized the unique tone of iron doors sliding on metal casters. He could feel concrete beneath his feet once more. Several voices were heard shouting at one another in a deafening tumult of words he couldn't decipher.

"Take the guard into the other room."

Raymond didn't have time to process where Dembe was being taken before his own feet were led down a lengthy metal hallway. His captors barked and snarled at each other. The vice-like grip on his arms gave no quarter with which to make a break, but it didn't matter much. With his hands still cuffed behind him and his head still swathed in the black cloth, Red was quite without his faculties.

He would simply have to wait.

In the interim, his mind dashed about frantically, listing off all the enemies who could be responsible for his capture, the German and Basír crowning the top of that list.

Rosalie had been there in the square, but she had fled the scene at roughly the same time he and Dembe had been taken.

Had she seen what had become of them? Or had she, as Red feared, been too caught up in whisking her client out of harm's way to notice? How long would it take for her or MI6 to realize they were missing?

How far gone would they be by then?

A pair of muffled voices could be heard up ahead, a man and a woman; the two were arguing viciously. The rusty creak of another metal door to Red's right brought the man's voice into startling clarity.

"What the hell happened?"

The woman ignored him in favor of another. "Here Bartol, take my belt, you need a tourniquet. Keep pressure on it, as much as you can stand."

"What are you doing here?" the man bellowed again, "How did you get here so quickly?"

"For Christ's sake...Nearly three months of you being chased across the globe by every gung-ho Gary with a service weapon, and you thought I'd just assume you'd be alright†? Not a chance. I made sure I was in the area with a battalion of security at the ready on the off chance something went wrong."

"A battalion of security." he scoffed, "Fat lot of good they did. The Feds still found me!"

"The Feds were on you the moment you arrived!" she snarled back, "Didn't you hear that chopper overhead? It's mine. My people clocked clocked them on your tail before you even left the safe house. Why do you think I called and told you not to leave?"

Red was shunted forward, his footsteps echoing loudly in what sounded like a large, empty room.

Warehouse. His mind supplied, the thought cut off by another shout.

"Aha! So there he is!"

The man's voice was eerily familiar.

"Shh!"

The door closed somewhere behind him with a clang, and Raymond was deposited on his knees before them, hands still cuffed behind his back, forced to kneel helplessly exposed before his captors.

"Well?" barked the man, "What the ruddy hell are you waiting for? Take off his hood, I want to see the thorn that's been riddling my side these past nine months."

"Shut. Up."

The woman's voice caught Red's attention once more. He knew that voice.

A pair of fingers snapped sharply, and the hood was ripped from his head, blinding Red in an instant. As his eyes adjusted to the change, that voice issued once more from the blur.

"You?"

The formidable figure of Rosalie Øllegaard swam into focus, fierce stride carrying her across the warehouse floor at speed.

Raymond had barely a second before she was upon him, all wild honeyed curls and eyes like burning quicksilver. His heart thundered inside his chest, immediately eager for her to draw near.

The hand which sliced the air was unexpected, but not near as unexpected as the loud, sharp slap which landed on Red's right cheek. The strike sent him tilting out of surprise more than force.

"How many times have I told you my clientele are off limits, Reddington?"

Red looked up, utterly baffled by this reception until he got a closer look at the delicate face looming over him.

Rosalie's countenance was no longer ablaze, but pale and apologetic. It pleaded with him to understand and play along with her charade. Something in her plan was not going smoothly; they were not yet safe.

He fell into step at once.

"Quite the little southpaw you've got there, sweetheart."

A relieved smile plucked at Rosalie's features, amusement and dark delight shining brightly in those obsidian eyes. She reached out a lone finger to trace his stubbled jaw, just grazing his earlobe in the process. When she reached the point of his chin, she cupped it and drew her thumb across his bottom lip, setting his insides burning all over again.

A plaintive groan swelled in Red's chest. He narrowly managed to subdue the undignified noise before it could leave his throat.

Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

One look confirmed that yes, yes she did, and most importantly...his little dove was enjoying his desperation.

"I cannot deny..." Rosalie purred just loud enough for him to hear, "This is a good look on you, love."

Red licked his lips compulsively, trying to wet the mouth which had suddenly gone bone dry.

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," she said in a carrying voice, falling right back into their act, "What the hell were you doing lurking by the wayside while one of my clients was getting swooped down upon by a bunch of Feds?"

"Now, now, Mademoiselle," he said, stepping into the role of charming scoundrel with ease, "I told you I only wished for an audience with your client-"

"I told you no, you cretin! I suppose that ridiculous altercation in the square was your doing? Causing a problem just so you can solve it and get into our good graces? Do you know those ham-fisted fools nearly killed him?"

The chastisement did not lack merit, and Rosalie's face momentarily returned to its somber frown. Red gave the smallest of nods, assuring her he got the message.

"My dear, if I wanted him dead, there are far easier ways of going about it, and the ruffians you mentioned? They aren't in my employ. I believe that particular brood of door kickers belongs to her majesty the queen."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Oh I'm sure you don't have your fair share nestled in those deep pockets of yours."

"Is this about that little spat we had in Geneva?" he smirked, "Is that why you're so cross with me?"

"This has nothing to do with Geneva, you ass-!"

"I know that voice."

The comment broke up their bickering at once. The Jailbreaker craned to see over Rosalie's shoulder, his grizzled face drawn into a curious frown. "I know that voice; did you say Reddington? I knew a Reddington, once."

Rosalie whipped around. "This is Raymond Reddington. He tried to blackball me into getting a meeting with you, I told him no, and now he just turns up like a bad penny-"

"I had my own security laying in wait." Red corrected, "You're right, I do have eyes and ears inside MI6, but they're purely for intelligence purposes. All I heard was that a particular task force was going after a criminal known as the Jailbreaker. Once I heard the name, I knew I had to find him before they could."

"Why?"

"He's a former client."

Once again, the pair turned toward Rodney.

The Jailbreaker looked upon Red with obvious recognition now, his thin mouth drawn in a tight line. "You're awfully close to Phonthong, young man. I'd thought you learned your lesson the first time."

"I've been told I'm rather persistent, sir." said Red.

The man actually chuckled.

Rosalie narrowed her eyes at her client. "Rodney, you can't possibly believe a former client would just turn up out of the woodwork with the sole intent of helping you?"

Raymond arched a haughty brow. "Any criminal worth their salt keeps tabs on their past clientele, Mademoiselle. I'm sure your Jailbreaker knows precisely what line of work I'm in, and the myriad ways my particular expertise could get him out of this bind for good."

"You're a concierge." she snapped. "What could you possibly know that we don't?"

"He's the concierge." Rodney corrected, moving a hair closer now that he felt at ease. "The Concierge of Crime. That's what they're calling you these days, is it not? If there's anyone who would know why MI6 is after me with such a vengeance, I suppose you'd be the one."

Rosalie frowned down at Red for a moment, who gave her a lascivious once-over. "I know a few things." he purred, holding her gaze.

A smile plucked at the corner of her mouth, but she managed to subdue it. "I don't know, Rodney…In my limited experience, he's been more trouble than he's worth. Are you sure he can be trusted?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, I'm not. I do, however, believe we should hear him out."

Raymond tilted a smug smile at Rosalie, waiting for her to give in.

"Fine." she growled at last, "We'll hear what he has to say. Not here, though. With that band of Feds sniffing around, it isn't secure. We'll take him to a black site where we can speak freely."

Teddy stepped out from behind a side door, handing a burner to Rosalie. "The transports are here, as well as the physician."

Rosalie glanced at the screen and nodded. "Rodney, you and your guard take the suburban. There's a physician waiting to look at that arm. We'll take the sedan in front;" she jerked her head in Red's direction, "I want to keep my eyes on this one."

Bartol bowed his head in gratitude, then fell in step alongside his employer. Nobody spoke until they were out of the room.

Ted turned to Rosalie's extraneous security. "Right, you lot. Off you go."

They all filed out without a word.

"Alright, Dembe?"

Dembe sauntered leisurely into the empty space, unencumbered by hood or handcuff, took one look at Red, and gave an amused snigger. "You are in custody still, I see."

"I caught him causing mischief, fair and square." said Rosalie, turning to wrap the younger man in a tight hug. "Thought he could use a little time out."

Ted waved for his comrade to follow him "C'mon, we should board the transport before they get suspicious."

Rosalie winked when Dembe hesitated, dark eyes flitting to Raymond's stationary form once more. "We'll be right behind you, sweetheart."

She waited until their guard were out of earshot before rushing to Red's side and coaxing him to his feet.

"Untie me, Rosalie."

She shrank from the gruffness in his voice. "I-I'm so sorry, Raymond-"

"I said, untie me."

A slender knife slipped between his wrists, cutting the tie that bound him like it was butter.

"Ray, I'm sor-"

His arms were full of her in a second, crushing Rosalie to him in a tight, unrelenting hold. A soft whimper escaped her before Red swallowed it, claiming her lips in a searing kiss.

The blade fell to the ground with a clatter.

Rosalie clung to his chest for stability as rough hands gripped her curves hard enough to bruise. She melted into his hold, a small moan rising unbidden in her throat when she felt his tongue.

The air around them had gone all foggy and sluggish, any coherent thought clouded with the all-encompassing desire being kindled between them. When Rosalie failed to open to his searching, Red set his teeth to nipping the tender flesh of her bottom lip, demanding she give him what he wanted.

Her mouth obediently opened to him, a renewed shiver ricocheting along every nerve when his voracious tongue plundered her depths.

Red greedily took his fill of her, rewarding her surrender with an endless torrent of rough, demanding kisses. They were swaying on the spot when he was at last forced to break for air, their breaths coming heavy and fast against each other's lips.

Rosalie struggled to gather herself, reaching out to cup his cheek, her expression turned crestfallen. "I didn't hurt you, did I love?"

Raymond softened at the note of worry creeping its way into her voice, and the fine mist that made her eyes shine overly bright. "No, little dove. I'm perfectly well."

"I'm so sorry I slapped you." she whispered, so sincere in her remorse it made his chest tighten painfully. "Rodney was far more suspicious of me than I'd expected. The whole ride over here he kept glaring at me and asking me questions about why I was there and how I knew when and where he would be while en route…I couldn't let him figure us out, so I had to make it look like you and I abhor one another, but I think I took it too far-"

"You did what you needed to do to ensure he wouldn't suspect us," said Red in an attempt to soothe, "It's alright, Rosalie."

"It's not alright." she fussed, pressing cooling fingers to his still-pink cheek. "I don't ever want to hit you."

He chuckled and placed another warm kiss to her palm. "My dear, what if there's a time I deserve it?"

A throat cleared on their left. It was Teddy.

"Sorry," he grimaced, eyes darting politely to the floor, "We need to get going before Rodney gets suspicious again. Perhaps you can catch up later?"

Rosalie sighed, "Ted's right. Come along, scoundrel."

She threaded her fingers through Red's, holding his hand until they reached the edge of the warehouse doors, whereupon she took up her waspy mask once more.

Raymond couldn't help a genuine laugh as she stormed out of the warehouse with him mere steps behind her, a formidable scowl darkening her pretty features. She hopped into the transport without looking back, closing the door on him once for good measure. He opened it and was greeted by the infectious duet that was her and Dembe's quiet giggling.

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, they were off in the direction of the black site with the Jailbreaker's transport following close behind.

Black Site #96 "Hoa Phượng" - Huế, Vietnam

The drive to Huế was blissfully short thanks to a series of side roads they took, culminating in a private lane leading to Rosalie's black site.

The interim was passed fielding irate phone calls from MI6, who by now had noticed not only their target's disappearance, but Red's absence as well.

It had taken Sika bellowing at Dembe for Red to confiscate the burner and chuck it out the car window.

"They are not happy." Dembe sighed, watching the pit of plastic soar out of sight.

"Change the record." Red replied.

"They are going to want an explanation."

"Tell them not to hold their breath."

"You'll need to give them something," said Rosalie, "Otherwise we'll lose their cooperation entirely."

Raymond shrugged and peered out the window. "They'll get the Brothers soon enough."

Hoa Phượng's iron gates opened upon their arrival, giving a sweeping first-glance at Rosalie's Huế estate.

Three structures loomed ahead, each supported by thick wooden beams so dark a brown they were nearly black. Each was topped with a traditional tiled pagoda roof with ornate carvings at the corners and seams.

The leftmost compound had long displays of frothing, billowy waves which must have been overlaid with copper at one point to now be covered in a rich green patina. The far right compound shone gold at its edges, with crouching and snarling lion dogs carved to overlook the home's exterior.

The caravan turned toward the central structure, which stood a full floor taller than its comrades with dense curling clouds made of pale white deadwood carved into its dark crown.

"Raymond…" Rosalie murmured, drawing him out of his rubbernecking, "You were the one who told me to take on the Brothers Sionnach; now you want me to give them up?"

"I never tire of being right." he said, turning to her with a smirk, "I had a feeling they'd end up being useful, and I was right. Once we've got the names of the freelancers the German and Basír used, we can throw the Feds a bone and you can be rid of a troublesome client."

Rosalie's mouth fell open. "You've been dangling the Brothers over MI6 like a golden carrot, when you've known they were in my network all along? You really are a scoundrel."

Dembe shook his head when the pair in the back seat started laughing to themselves once more. "How did you get brought into this?" he asked Ted,.

"Well, you know Rosalie." Teddy grinned, throwing the transport in park when they reached the portico. "She asked if I was up for a bit of mischief, I asked what kind, she said the terrorize some Feds kind, and I said naturally, so we took off toward the square with a security team in tow. I'll admit the Molotov cocktail was a bit unexpected, but not the strangest way we've spent a Wednesday morning."

Dembe shook his head, chuckling low as they exited the vehicle and made straight for the home's kitchen. "You certainly live an eventful life, my friend."

Raymond, Rosalie, and Rodney all congregated in the main compound's formal sitting room, where the establishment's property manager had just finished setting out refreshments.

"Are you sure you don't wish to see the physician before we get into this?" Rosalie asked the latter of the three, crossing one leg over the other as she took her seat. Two fingers of bourbon were set before her without a word.

"No," said Rodney, "I'm fine, just a few scratches. I'd rather get this underway then get the hell out of dodge, if that's alright with you?"

Rosalie nodded, passing him a brandy for his nerves and gesturing for him to take one of the seats on the cushioned couch. "The black site in Auckland is ready for your arrival. I'm sure Mr. Reddington will be obliging enough to assist in having you safely moved?"

Raymond nodded his agreement. The property manager, Cánh, eased a scotch into his hand before politely making his exit.

The trio waited until they were certain they were alone before bringing up business.

"So..." Rodney grunted as he settled into the plush cushions, "This MI6 source of yours, they let you in on our predicament?"

"She mentioned you've been on their list since sometime last year." said Red.

"That sounds about right; there have been issues with my security since around that time. I moved into the mademoiselle's network shortly after."

"What caused their sudden interest?" Rosalie asked, "Rod's never needed my assistance before. We've been trying to unearth what's driving their pursuit for months to no avail."

"As luck would have it, I know what and more importantly, who have caught their eye."

Rodney bristled at once. "I can't give up a client, if that's what you're getting at."

Raymond shrugged, "You can't keep running like this, either. Mademoiselle Øllegaard's network is impenetrable, as long as it's accessed properly. Can your business really sustain you being smuggled away to a remote black site every three weeks?"

"Rodney…" Rosalie turned a worried frown on her client, "Maybe we should hear him out."

A fresh scowl darkened the Jailbreaker's features.

"Come off it, Rose. If anyone can understand the hard line on clients, it ought to be you."

She blushed and nodded, "Yes, but Rodney, what good are businesses like ours if we're unable to stay ahead of the law ourselves? One client to save an entire operation-"

"That one client could just as easily destroy it!" he snapped, standing up to pace the room.

"Who are they looking for?" she asked, turning pointedly back to Red, "If we knew who was at stake, perhaps we could more effectively gauge the damage the person could cause."

Red gave a nod and shifted his attention to the Jailbreaker, "MI6 is after a pair of fugitives you encountered in the early 90's. One Basír Ocee Maharaj, of disputed origin, and his German counterpart, a man whose name MI6 has yet to uncover. It's my understanding the pair are involved in a string of bombings throughout Britain, lead by the Brothers Sionnach."

"Basír?" Rodney came to a sudden halt, "He doesn't seem the type."

"Is he a big client?" Rosalie pressed, "Could he cause any issues?"

Rodney was silent for several seconds, fingers scratching at his wiry beard. "…No," he admitted at last, "Basír is a loner, as is his friend. In the nearly eight years I've known them, this is the first instance I've come across where another fugitive even knew they existed."

"I admit I've never even heard of this Maharaj." she lied with ease, "Do we know what line of work he's in?"

"Whatever he's up to, he's very quiet about it. There are precious few lines of work that can exist in a vacuum. I'm amazed at the low profile he's managed to maintain all these years. His comrade was a bit of an enigma as well."

Raymond and Rosalie shared a look of consternation.

"How did the Feds connect them to me?"

"MI6 managed to infiltrate Basír's banker unnoticed." said Red, "My source mentioned you were put on retainer for an extraction? The payment gave you away."

Rodney swore under his breath. "I was. At first it was for Basír, but he never called in his chit. It was transitioned to a comrade of his nearly a month ago."

Rosalie's frown deepened. "Which comrade? This German fellow?"

"No, no, someone else."

Grey eyes flitted to green, then darted away.

"...Someone else?" prodded Red.

"I'm not sure who this man was;" Rodney replied, "I couldn't place his accent. I only met him the once."

"Can you describe him?" asked Rosalie.

"Dark hair, green eyes. Tall and muscular build. Well-dressed..."

"From where is he to be extracted? Somewhere in Britain?"

"No, no, somewhere in the south of France. The chit is good for the next six months."

Raymond's eyes shot to Rosalie. She studiously avoided his gaze, though her face had paled several shades. He hurried to cover the awkward silence, "Basír and the German, where did they go after Britain?"

"I've no idea where they settled." said Rodney, "I merely got them out and made the changeover to the Coursair."

"The Coursair?" Rosalie blurted, "The smuggler?"

The Jailbreaker nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly after her sudden outburst. Raymond too was eyeing his companion with no small measure of concern.

"I don't know where they were going but it was somewhere in Europe," Rodney continued, "They also had to sneak their way into port. The only way they could do that was through the Coursair and his connections."

"You didn't supply the other freelancers?" asked Red.

"No, Basír was very cautious; he didn't want us all knowing about each other. I provided him with the Coursair, then the Coursair was charged to enlist a forger and someone to give them an introduction to the mainland underground. What Basír didn't realize was that people who do what you and I do were thin on the ground during that time. I already know which forger the Coursair used because he was the one we all used back then."

A scoff echoed in the room, and Raymond shook his head. "Airam."

Rodney smirked. "They don't call him that these days, and I doubt he still forges. Perhaps you know what's become of my old friend?"

Rosalie's gaze shifted from Raymond to Rodney and back again. "Who's Airam?"

"He was the Forger the same way Mr. Reddington here has become the Concierge. There are many in their fields, but none as prolific as them."

"Airam forged my first set of fakes." Red explained, hazarding a glance at Rosalie, "He was everyone's forger back in the early nineties, but he's since retired. He's a sort of...what would you call him, sir? A historian?"

"Of sorts...They call him 'The Moniker' now."

"The Moniker?" Rosalie repeated, "What kind of criminal is that?"

"Airam stepped down from forging to maintain the ledger of criminal aliases." Raymond explained, "Only the preeminent criminals in the underground's cornerstone syndicates can be tapped for the role. As far back as the written word, the whole of criminal history has been laid to rest at the feet of the Moniker. It's a prestigious tenure that's been passed down from generations of fugitives."

"Cornerstone syndicates? Don't you mean support syndicates?"

Raymond and Rodney chuckled at this.

"Of course Florian would refer to them as support syndicates..." sighed the latter, rolling his eyes.

"There's a division in the underground between foundational syndicates and cornerstone syndicates." Raymond explained gently, having caught the consternated scowl Rosalie tried to hide. "Foundational are mostly region-based: the Mafia families, Triads, and Le Milieu being among them. They're responsible for the growth and sustainability of all criminal activity. Cornerstone syndicates are helmed mostly by individuals, and are paramount to maintaining the underground's ecosystem. Innkeepers, forgers, concierges, etc…"

"So basically any freelancer responsible for keeping the rest of the underground going is a cornerstone syndicate?"

He shook his head. "The freelancers are the support syndicates. Only those at the top of their given industry are considered cornerstones. People like Airam, who've been at it for years and work with syndicates so far up the food chain nobody can really touch them without earning a bounty on their head."

"So…Rodney could be the next Moniker? -or you?"

The two men burst into laughter once more.

"No, no, Rose." Rodney chortled and poured her another drink, "I know where far too many skeletons are buried, and Mr. Reddington here has far, far too much notoriety."

Raymond gave her the faintest whisper of a wink from behind his glass.

"In short, my dear, too many people want us dead."

"Although..." said Rodney, "Word on the underground is the Reddington syndicate does enough crime to vie for a place in the foundational fifteen."

"An opportunity I certainly wouldn't shy away from." said Red, "As for the cornerstone syndicates, I'm afraid the only viable candidate in this room is Mademoiselle Øllegaard."

Rosalie started a bit, "Me?"

"Oh yes." Rodney nodded sagely, "Your name has been heard in all the right circles. You have the pedigree as Florian Armel's adopted daughter. Many in the underground consider you the rightful cornerstone of the innkeeping sector already."

"I don't know how I feel about that." she mumbled, "I know what being a foundational syndicate meant for Corsica, but I haven't the faintest idea what comes with being a cornerstone."

"Mostly immunity in any underground conflicts," said Red, his tone turning thoughtful, "A seat at the table in every major movement within the underground, untouchable status to ensure nobody with the means to harm you can take a single step in your direction. You would also be in the running to become one of the twenty who convene for the Shell Island Retreat."

A covert look passed between the two men, one Rosalie did not miss.

"It might behoove certain members of the underground to help pave the way for her ascent." Rodney intoned with a slight incline of his head.

"Yes." Raymond chewed thoughtfully at the inside of his cheek,"It would certainly provide a benefit to those who were in on the ground floor..."

Rosalie cleared her throat. "I think we're a little off topic, gentlemen."

The pair threw each other another surreptitious look, but did as she bid.

"You made the handoff to the Coursair, when?" said Red.

"June of '93." said Rodney, "Near Normandy Beach. Either Airam or the Coursair should know where Basír and his counterpart went next. I have to warn you though, they're both a fight to get ahold of. The Coursair has grown paranoid this past year, thinks someone's after him; and Airam has been off-grid since god knows when."

"That's his to deal with." Rosalie replied, ending the discussion abruptly. "Rodney, I think you've been more than accommodating toward Mr. Reddington's curiosity. It's best we move you to the Auckland black site now, on the off-chance the Feds are still lurking in the area."

Rodney downed the last of his brandy, setting the glass on the coffee table as he stood. "Yes, I suppose that would be for the best." He held out his hand for Red to shake. "Ray, I'm sure you can handle this dust-up with MI6. Get them off my back without implicating me to the underground, and I'll be in your debt."

"Consider it done." said Red, and they shook on it. "Hopefully the next time I need busting out, you'll be easier to find."

"Bartol is in the guest wing, should you wish to check on him." Rosalie added, "We'll have you both safely en route to New Zealand within the hour."

"Thank you, Rosalie." Rodney sighed, "I fear I was a bit too harsh on you earlier. Without you and your network, the Feds would've had me long before now. I am in your debt as well."

Rosalie smiled. "You're not a bad guy to have around, Rod. I'm glad I could help."

The Jailbreaker chuckled at this, turned on the ball of his foot, and left the room.

The sitting room's remaining occupants waited as still as statues, listening to the man's feet carry him down the hall and through a set of wide ebony wood doors.

They waited for the sound of his footsteps to completely disappear before letting out the combined breath they'd been holding.

"Dammit..." Rosalie swore, hunching over with her face in her hands.

Raymond rose to quickly take the seat beside her. "Is it the chit? Do you think it could be for someone in Corsica?"

"Not just that...the Coursair; I know how to find him."

"How-?"

Another groan issued from Rosalie's hands.

"He's a Corsican in all but name. He's been impossible to find because he's been contracted with Corsica these past six years. I know exactly where he's been hiding and what he's been doing."

Understanding dawned on Red like a slap to the face. "How many associates has the Coursair helped place inside Corsica?"

"Dozens, if not hundreds."

"Shit."

"Yeah..."

"It's too coincidental, Rosalie."

"We don't have definitive proof." she insisted, "I need to hear it from the Coursair himself. If he helped the German and Basír get to Corsica, then we can get Florian involved."

Red took Rosalie's hand, threading her fingers with his own. "We should tell him now. Whether they ended up in Le Milieu or not, Corsica is his territory and his responsibility."

Rosalie shook her head, "I'm not going to my father with half-baked information. We'll tell him as soon as we know something concrete. I don't want to worry him needlessly. How long do you think it'll take to find Airam?"

"A few weeks, tops. Those fakes I gave you that first night in New York? Airam made those. I put him on retainer years ago; he's been working for me alongside his duties as the Moniker."

"You know where he is, then?"

Another smirk met this. "No, but it won't take much to find him."

Rosalie let out a long, steady breath. "So this is it?...We're closing in on them?"

"We ought not to count our chickens before they've hatched, but we're certainly on the right track."

A terse silence swelled in the air between them, looming with the realization of where their search was headed.

A small titter snuck out of Rosalie, followed by a full throaty laugh. Raymond started chuckling a second later, relaxing back into the couch cushions with a wide grin on his face.

"Oh my god, this could finally be over!" she sighed, wiping at her eyes, "My god, do you even remember what it was like before they were on our tail? I don't. What the hell are we going to do with that much free time?"

Raymond considered the matter as he pulled her to his side, pleased when she simply tucked her head beneath his chin. His hand came to rest on the curve of her hip, fingertips drawing soothing little circles into the fabric of her slacks. "First and foremost, I plan on chasing a little French innkeeper across the globe."

"Oh?"

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Mhm. Legend says she's bound to stay with whomever catches her. I like my odds."

A renewed giggle left her lips.

"Best of luck with that. I heard she's rather slippery."

"Only if I play my cards right."

"I beg your pardon?"

Red couldn't help but laugh once more, the sound punctuated by Rosalie's half-hearted chiding and a torrent of reprimanding swats to his person.

Da Nang Safe House- Da Nang, Vietnam

"When can I see you again?"

They were back in Da Nang, at the base of the main safe house's front steps. Rosalie's arms circled Red's middle, threading her fingers through his at the small of his back.

"Rodney will be gone in an hour." she smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "After sundown, someone will come to collect the two of you. Dinner will be waiting at the safe house."

Red felt something cinch tight around one wrist, then the other.

"What are you doing?"

Rosalie took a step back and smoothed her hands over the breadth of his chest, admiring the view as she did so. "Gotta keep up our little charade, don't we? Let you save face so the Feds don't think you and I are in cahoots?"

"I think it's a little late for that-"

The black cloth was crammed over his head once more.

"Well, at the very least, I get to enjoy leaving you on their doorstep like a trussed up turkey."

He was lead to the bottom of the steps and nudged back to back with Dembe, who could be heard sniggering a little behind his hood.

"Looks good." said Rosalie once they were settled. "Very convincing. Now I'll give the doorbell a little ring-a-ding, and we'll be off."

"You can't be serious." drawled Red, "They'll arrest you on sight."

"You think I'm just going to hang around? Honestly, it's like you've never played a game of ding-dong-ditch in your life..."

Rosalie prodded the doorbell, its chime audible from behind the door. Scampering down the steps, she stooped and lifted Raymond's hood just enough to kiss him soundly on the lips before returning to her car.

Tires peeled out, then the night fell silent.

Several seconds passed before they heard the deadbolt click. The front door swung open with a loud creak.

The inhabitants said nothing upon finding two hooded men bound together on their stoop.

"Is that him?" a man's voice whispered from the door, "Is that the Jailbreaker?"

A tutt of annoyance met this.

"Oh for heavens' sake." Emma grumbled, snatching the nearest hood and revealing the disgruntled visage of one Raymond Reddington.

"Where the ruddy hell have you been?" she bellowed, voice echoing in the courtyard like a foghorn.

A snort of laughter erupted from behind her.

"Returned to sender." Ezra continued to snigger, "How's the fall from grace treating you, Red?"

"Splendid." he replied, "Do feel free to untie us at your leisure. Preferably before some passerby notices who I am and decides to shoot me."

The agents stooped to tackle the zipties binding their hands and quickly helped both men to their feet.

Raymond and Dembe stretched the tightness from their shoulders as they made their way inside.

Sika swept into the room, throwing a first aid kit onto the kitchen table with a scowl. "Look who it is." she snipped, sparing a glance for Raymond and Dembe as she set out a syringe and stitching thread. "Care to enlighten us on where you ran off to all day?"

"I was detained." said Red, tilting his head to take in her battered patient. "Agent Sutherland, you're looking a little worse for wear."

Skip swayed atop the table, an icepack held to the left side of his temple. A wad of tissue paper had been jammed up his right nostril, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut, but he looked to be in high spirits. That, or he was already floating on a narcotics-induced cloud. "That broad with the Molotov cocktail threw a spanner in the works." He nicked a nearby pen to conduct a field sobriety test, even giving his knee a rap to showcase his reflexes were in perfect working order. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I can see that." Red chortled, admittedly impressed. He made a mental note that Skip was long overdue for a holiday, perhaps his villa in the Maldives...

"You still haven't told us where you went."

Emma, like a dog with a bone, refused to let Red gloss over his absence.

"I didn't go anywhere," he replied, "I was taken."

"By who?"

"Whom." he corrected, earning himself a venomous glare. "An associate of mine; her men snatched Dembe and I off the side street where we were stationed just as the fighting broke out."

"Why?" asked Ezra.

Raymond shrugged. "The Jailbreaker is a client of hers; she wasn't about to hand him over quietly."

A furious tumult erupted from the agents, demanding he elaborate.

"We've been chasing this bastard for months!" Emma decried,

"Don't tell us we've got to start all over?" moaned Ezra.

"Who is this bird?" grumbled Skip, who had begun to waylay Sika's attempts at first aid, "-and how did she know we were pursuing the Jailbreaker?"

"Skip's right." Sika swatted his hands away with an impatient scowl, "It's too coincidental this associate turned up just when we were closing in."

Red held up his hands, waving them all to be quiet. "A minor hiccup in our plans, nothing more. I agree, it's highly suspicious that she knew about the operation, but it's her job to circumvent attacks on her clientele. No doubt she had a bead on the three of you on the ground before you even made contact."

Ezra slumped into the nearest chair. "So what do we do now?"

"Luckily I have a meeting set with her tonight to go over a business proposal." said Red, "With any luck, I'll be able to worm out how she got ahead of you, and more importantly, where the Jailbreaker's been whisked off to."

"One of us will go with you." said Sika, slapping a bandage on Skip's forehead with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. The agent winced, but made no complaints. Emma made to grab her service weapon and coat.

Both Raymond and Dembe bristled. The latter gave a vigorous shake of his head, "Absolutely not. This woman knows I'm involved with MI6, but for now I have her convinced it's purely for intel purposes and staying ahead of investigations into my interests. It must stay that way. If I show up at her door with a Fed, she will shoot them on sight and sell me off to the highest bidder as a traitor."

"We can't just let you go in blind." Emma complained, leveling Dembe a particularly malevolent look when he helped her out of her jacket. "Perhaps a wire? We can station ourselves outside the property-"

"The mademoiselle's security is far too advanced for that." He interjected, soft voice carrying in the now-quiet room. "Raymond is right, we cannot guarantee your safety or our own if MI6 insists on interfering."

This at last seemed to convince the agents to stand down. Red gave Dembe a covert nod of thanks.

"So we just sit here," said Sika, thoroughly dejected, "Once again, with nothing to show for our efforts, and nothing to tell Alby."

Raymond turned to her with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but she continued to glower at him all the same. "Where one door closes, so opens a window, or however the hell that saying goes...It'll be fine, Agent Boateng. Take a couple days off," he gestured to the room at large, "God knows you've all earned a few. When we convene at the Abbey once more, I'll have our way forward."

Black Site #96 "Hoa Phượng" - Huế, Vietnam

They arrived back at the black site a couple hours later, and Red was honestly relieved.

The mood in the Da Nang safe house was taciturn at best, and downright hostile in some respects. Sika and Skip had taken the avenue of stoic although disgruntled resignation, and even Ezra seemed to be coasting off his faith that he would provide them all with clean intel at the earliest opportunity, but Knightley...pregnancy was turning her into a wasp with a particularly sharp sting. If she wasn't shooting daggers at him with her eyes, she was openly snarling at him for every slight she felt he'd committed in the short window he was in their company.

Raymond readily admitted her ire amused him a bit, and had it not been for the child she carried, he would have taken great enjoyment out of seeing just how high he could stoke her blood pressure.

"Miss Rosalie is down in the gardens." Cánh advised once they'd disembarked their transport. He gestured Raymond towards a set of stone steps leading down to a path of decking painted in bright red.

He set off down the path, leaving Dembe to join Teddy, who stood waiting in the entryway of the main house.

The path wound and twisted through the forested property accommodating clusters of rustling bamboo and the long, swaying tendrils of bodhi trees. Rocky ponds speckled the forest floor on occasion, luring clusters of brightly-colored butterflies to its pink lotus flowers and purple water lilies.

Rounding the corner that would lead him to the rear of the main house, Red was met with a most delectable sight.

The crimson path widened into a hexagonal deck, shrouded in the splaying branches of a golden shower orchid tree that had just begun to shed its gilded blooms. In the midst of the spiraling petals emerged a most familiar silhouette dressed in a wispy cotton gown.

He simply smiled and admired as she scampered about in the fragrant blooms, bright yellow petals clinging to the soles of her bare feet and her soft golden curls. A pair of gray eyes settled on him at last, dancing with their usual amusement.

"You found me, then?"

"I did."

Rosalie dimpled at him, "Are you just going to linger by the wayside or are you gonna come talk to me?"

"I don't know," he grinned, "The view from over here is lovely."

She pondered him for a moment, lips pursed in thought. A basket sat unassuming near the mouth of the path, and she reached inside to pull out a perfectly ripe mango. "Perhaps I can coax you a bit closer with food, the same way I do the frogs and hummingbirds."

Red chuckled and hazarded a few steps closer. "It's still early in the year for mangoes, isn't it?"

"These are the first of the season." Rosalie replied, "They're nice and firm and sweet..."

He swallowed thickly, a great many lewd nothings poised on the tip of his tongue. The coy smile she gave him only made it that much harder to hold back.

His feet moved of their own accord, making a slow pursuit as he backed her into one of the deck's sheltered corners.

"What makes you think I'd accept so much as a morsel from your hand, you little hellion?"

Rosalie tittered when she was hoisted up onto the railing, the mango thoroughly forgotten in favor of being wrapped around her former lover. "Aw, has my mischief ruined your appetite?"

Red smirked, threading his fingers through hers and wrapping his arms around her middle. "Quite the contrary, little dove."

A high-pitched zip made Rosalie's eyes widen.

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, Raymond chuckled when she twisted about, trying to figure out why she could no longer move her arms. All the while, the cuffs around her wrists made a satisfying rattle against the wooden rail.

"I believe Dembe observed your chef making dumplings for Ba Mee Kiew earlier," Raymond mused, perfectly delighted with himself. He turned to make for the main house, "I think I'll go indulge-"

"You're really going to leave me out here to get nibbled on by mosquitoes and vultures and who knows what else?" she called after him, wriggling in her bonds for emphasis.

Red paused, then sauntered back to her perch, holding Rosalie's gaze without blinking as his warm palms smoothed along the tops of her thighs.

Her breath stuttered when he slowly, meticulously pried them apart.

His eyes traveled slowly over her center, admiring the slip of skirt hiding what he coveted most. Rosalie squirmed as though she could feel the heat of his gaze tracing her sensitive flesh. His focus lingered several seconds longer than could be considered decent, and by the end of his trek, he could see her blush traveling all the way down to her toes.

"Hmm…" he murmured at last, "You are delectable. It's not merely the birds and the bees that would love to make a feast of you."

Rosalie's skin burned so hot beneath his touch, it had to have tickled her nose. Her eyes dropped instinctively, whereupon she too could see the vibrant flush that had taken over her pale skin. When she looked up, it was to find him smirking at her.

"Oh, shut up." she chided with a laugh, prodding his middle with her foot.

"What?" Raymond grinned and nabbed the appendage, using the leverage to bring himself closer to the valley of her thighs. "I was referring to the lions and tigers and…bears."

His throat rumbled a low growl against the shell of Rosalie's ear, making her giggle and squirm. When he pulled back, it was to find her leaning after him, granite eyes fixated on his mouth.

"Oh, I'm not going to kiss you again." He chided, seeing the direction her mind was headed, "Not until you ask me to."

Rosalie batted her lashes convincingly, "Oh?"

"Nicely." he added, "As penance for that little trick you pulled today."

"So.." she asked, as though just trying to clarify his stance, "if I kiss you and don't ask nicely…does it still count?"

A smirk tugged at Red's lips, but he managed to wrestle it into a disapproving frown. "My dear, I'm surprised at you. You wouldn't want to be the kind of woman known for absconding with a man's virtue now, would you?"

A wicked grin greeted his question, and Rosalie leaned to place an impish peck to the spot where his neck and jawline met.

"I don't know whether to tell you I'm exactly that kind of woman-" her lips moved to brush the shell of his ear, "-or to insist you scarcely have any virtue left for me to take."

The sinful note to her voice made Raymond shiver in spite of himself. His hands circled about her hips, leisurely drawing himself deeper into her hold. "You think I'm lacking in virtue, sweet thing?"

"After some of our exploits?" She cast him a dubious look that made him chuckle.

Recognizing the battle as thoroughly lost, Red changed tact at top speed: "Will you be good for me, then? No more of this slapping and stealing?"

"Hmmm…" Rosalie dimpled up at him, "Okay. I'll only slap & steal if you ask nicely."

Ted called from the lanai that dinner was available for any lurkers out in the garden.

Raymond smiled indulgently and undid one of the cuffs. "Come along, you persuasive little imp."

Rosalie beamed when he eased her off the railing and into his waiting arms. "I'm forgiven for my bit of trickery, then?"

"Certainly not." he said, giving Ted an acknowledging wave. The man retreated back into the air conditioning, giving them privacy once more.

"I'll find other ways to get my pound of flesh." Red warned, playfully prodding the tip of Rosalie's nose before slipping his hand in hers. "For now, there's a stack of dumplings and a bottle of black vinegar up there that's saving you from punishment."

They laughed merrily all the way up the stone steps and into the safe house's waiting comfort.

The evening was spent in easy company. The four of them always got on so well, it was impossible not to have a good time.

Dembe and Rosalie spent half the evening conversing in rapid Mandarin, the former laughing gaily when the latter's conversation skills proved to be rather rusty. The ensuing banter served to prove just how much the pair had missed the rigor of their particular intellectual camaraderie.

Raymond and Ted spent the time commiserating over Earl King, comparing foibles and misfortunes they'd suffered from the man's foolishness. Teddy was particularly keen on getting Rosalie away from King, citing an uncomfortable exchange that had occurred between Earl and one of Rosalie's architects in Georgia.

Overall, it was a pleasant gathering, and Red was immensely glad they'd spent the evening there rather than at the safe house with the bevy of irritable agents.

When the last of their meal had been cleared away, Rosalie was loathe to leave the table. Her feet had wound up in Raymond's lap somewhere between dessert and coffee, and approximately forty minutes into her impromptu grammar lesson. His strong fingers had been kneading pleasurable circles into her arches all the while, easing the tension her heels had generated throughout the day.

"How about a night cap?" he purred, tilting his head toward the door.

Rosalie nodded and eased her feet back to Earth with a contented sigh.

Leaving Dembe and Ted to the comfort of the main house, she led Raymond out to the long covered walkway that lead to the secluded master's quarters.

The crimson lanterns dotting the corridor's ornate roof flickered to life, illuminating the space as the sun fell beneath the horizon. The humidity broke as well, sending rain to speckle the flowerbeds and the glistening pool beyond.

They took their time wandering the lengthy walk, talking about everything and nothing, fingers intertwined and shoulders bumping with every step.

When they arrived at the master's quarters, Rosalie swung the tall doors wide.

She was pleased when Raymond marveled at the dark, palatial interior within. Though a steep departure from her personal style, Hoa Phượng was without a doubt one of her most meticulously designed homes to date.

Modeled after the communal houses of Hanoi, the central space was made of stone and blackened centuries-old beams. Weathered gold filigree decorated the corners of archways and secluded altars. The lightwell that usually brought sunlight basking into the room was deep in shadow, its verdant tiles now illuminated by the amber glow of a dozen or so crimson candles.

A canopied daybed stood at the opposite end of the room, its sheer silks billowing in the gentle breeze pouring through the open window. Rosalie took Red's hand once more and led him there.

The worn red cover of The Age of Innocence stood out brightly against the white sheets. Rosalie plucked it from the bed and pressed the tome to Raymond's chest.

"I want to know how it ends." she purred, grinning when he beamed back at her and accepted the book.

A soft ripple of thunder could be heard overhead. It took little coaxing for Red to kick off his shoes and join her, an antique oil lamp bursting into light to illuminate the pages as they settled in for the final chapter.

Rosalie curled up against his side and heaved a contented sigh when he began to read aloud...

" 'At that, as if it had been the signal he waited for, Newland Archer got up slowly and walked back alone to his hotel.' "

It was not quite an hour later, and Raymond closed the book at last. A wide smile commandeered his features when an appalled little scoff issued from the head resting on his shoulder.

"He didn't go in? After all that longing, and stolen glances, and beating about the bush, he didn't go in?"

"Nope."

"God, that's so sad."

"It's bittersweet." he agreed, setting the book on his thigh.

Rosalie turned onto her side, propping her head up with one hand and tracing the button's of Red's shirt with the other. "But he was free…he could've spent the rest of his life with Ellen."

"Ah, but how could the real Ellen compare to the one he'd kept perched upon a pedestal in his heart?"

She frowned at the book for several long seconds, lifting it up and turning it over and over in her hands.

"I don't agree." she said at last, and Red was surprised to hear a gaint tinge of disgust stain her words. "I don't agree; I think he lied to himself because he's afraid to go inside, afraid to see and feel all that he missed out on in the intervening ears. That wasn't some last show of personal growth or nobility; he's simply a coward."

Once again, Raymond was taken aback by Rosalie's ability to see through people. It seemed even fictional characters weren't safe from her emotional acuity.

"You know," he said, "I think you're right."

A lone brow arched in his direction. "Raymond, you're the very definition of forthcoming. You never sugarcoat things, especially if it means lying to yourself. You really mean to tell me you didn't think the same the last time you read this?"

"No," he admitted, "I was convinced Newland made the right decision. I saw his martyrdom as this glorious sacrifice. In my mind, he was only a good man because he didn't turn right around and chase after Elen Olenska."

"…and now?"

Raymond shook his head. Now? Now he felt like eating crow. The esprit de corps he'd felt for Newland Archer's character now felt like blemish to his own, and it left him staggering.

Now more than ever, he felt that Newland deserved to ascend those stairs, to see his lost love at long last. He'd done his duty, and was well within his right to chase what happiness was available to him.

Wasn't he?

In the end, it'd been May who'd nudged their son to seek out Elen. In doing so, she had given Newland her blessing, upon her death, to pursue the woman he truly loved.

Given the gift of a second chance at the life he should've had, and the fool didn't take the chance.

Red had no such sign, and he was resolved not to wait for one. He wouldn't be like Newland; he wouldn't lose years of his life to the belief that keeping his word could only be achieved by sacrificing every ounce of joy he could ever hold to the altar of duty. Katarina hadn't wanted this solitude for him, this loneliness. Hadn't she told him as much?

They were not the same, he realized. Unlike Newland, Raymond had fallen in love with someone who not only joined him on the path he'd chosen, but was helping him navigate that path every single day. He could keep his promise, and his love.

He could have both. He would have both.

"Now I agree, he's a fool and a coward." Red continued to contemplate the ceiling, waiting for the knot in his chest to ease a touch. "Even if he was unsure that things would work out with Elen, being too fearful to even try was a massive shortcoming in his character."

He could feel Rosalie's eyes on him, and rather than making him feel exposed or uncomfortable, he found himself emboldened and certain.

"I hope I never become the kind of man who's too afraid of loss to chase life."

The conviction in his words was palpable. Of all the terrible things he could become in this life, Red hoped with an ever-increasing desperation that he would never sink so low as Newland Archer.

A warm hand settled on his chest.

"You won't."

He turned to bask in Rosalie's comfort, her soft smile so warming, so assured.

The tip of her dainty finger trailed along the bridge of his nose, "You will coast into old age with all the vim and vigor I know you to possess. You love life far too much to enjoy it in half measures, or to have your lust for it dampened in any way."

Raymond took her hand in his, listening as intently as he had listened to fairytales when he was a boy.

"Food, drink, books, music, dancing, making love…you cherish everything to do with living, Ray. You find just as much joy in life's big events as you do in the utterly mundane. For someone in our line of work to hold onto that, it's a testament to your character. You are who you are, love, and neither time nor circumstance can ever rob you of that."

For the first time, Red believed. He truly believed that not only would he make it through this life, but that there was more in store for him than simply surviving. He pulled Rosalie to him, drawing his thumb over the soft curve of her cheek as he had thousands of times before.

"...I can't wait for you to come home, little dove."

She smiled a warm, genuine smile and kissed his palm.

"Me too."

Marietta's Jet - Paris Airspace - March 4th, 2001

"So the Feds were just after the Sionnachs this whole time?"

"Hard to believe, right? All this mess, just for a band of miscreants."

It had taken a day and a half to clean up things in Vietnam. Rosalie and Teddy were currently in the midst of a post-mortem, sprawled on their backs in the middle of Marietta's Jet, head to head, with their bodies pointing in opposite directions. It was a peculiar habit they'd developed when it had been just the two of them going through the network's expansions, and the tradition had continued without end over the following year.

Rosalie would always flop onto the floor and prop her feet on the nearest piece of furniture so she could contemplate at length all that needed tending to.

Teddy, rather than question her methodology, would always plop down next to her, notepad in hand and pen poised at the ready. Head to head as they were, the two would hash out the path forward with breathtaking ease.

She would pepper him with questions and he'd respond with every scrap of intel that was available. He'd provide comedic relief when there was nothing else he could offer, and she'd laugh like his corny jokes somehow made up for it.

In all it was a peculiar practice, but their particular method of achieving homeostasis had yet to let them down.

And so, the pair lay sprawled on the jet's carpeted aisle, discussing the state of affairs as if it were no more consequential than the weather.

"I had a feeling you oughtn't get involved with them;" Teddy reminded, "Ray was so certain you should take them on, though...Good thing you did, too, otherwise we'd have no bargaining chip to get them off of Rodney's back."

"You were right, in the end." she shrugged, "I certainly won't be sorry to see the backs of them."

"How're you gonna do it?"

Rosalie heaved a sigh. "They've been causing such a cattle call in London, nobody would blame me for turning them loose. Once they're out on the street, it's up to the Feds to catch them."

Ted nodded in her periphery. "That's good. Plausible deniability. It'll make you look good as well. Sionnachs were perfectly safe until you turned them out on the street, it'll keep the others in line."

"As long as they don't get caught too quickly and make it look like I set them up..."

"Oh I think we can rely on those Feds of Red's to muck it up at least once before pinning them down."

Rosalie let out a loud snort of laughter that quickly had Ted howling too.

"Oh..." she sighed, "They really are a hapless bunch."

"I was always impressed how Ray could stay ahead of the law, but if these are the kind of enforcements he's been up against, bloke's got a lot less street cred in my book."

"I'm telling him you said that."

They dissolved into laughter once more, the sound only broken when Caspian stepped out of the cockpit to inform them they were heading into their final descent into Paris.

Teddy and Rosalie disembarked the jet shortly thereafter, making a quick drop at the newly-repaired Bombardier before boarding their transport to the the townhouse.

It was well past dark when they arrived on the Boulevard Saint-Germain and only the street lamps lit the quiet square as they ascended the front steps.

The curtains were drawn. The only speck of light on the safe house's first floor emanated from far down the main hall.

Ted paused on the threshold, casting Rosalie a look of concern when heavy footfalls could be heard plodding in a steady rhythm from one end of the house to the next. He held a finger to his lips. She nodded.

Silently, the pair pulled their firearms from their holsters, slipped inside, and eased the front door shut.

The entryway was impossibly dark. Rosalie kept her free hand on Ted's shoulder as she followed him down the hall.

No voices could be heard, but the footsteps continued to pound relentlessly across the floor. The sound grew louder the further they ventured.

The air in the home felt stifling, like the hush that precedes the announcement of a death.

Rosalie's skin prickled as they cleared room by room, ensuring the only occupants lay ahead. When they reached the edge of the formal living room, Ted held up a fist, signaling her to wait. She nodded.

He crept forward without a sound. Reaching the illuminated threshold that lead to the study, he slipped his watch from his wrist and wiped the back of it with his shirt before holding it up to the doorway's top most corner.

Angling it around the corner of the doorframe, he caught the room's occupants in its reflection.

"...Ted?"

It was Otto.

Both Ted and Rosalie slumped against the nearest wall, breathing a deep sigh of relief and shaking their heads in mutual annoyance. They stowed their weapons a moment later and stepped into the room.

Otto was seated in one of the armchairs, his elbows on his knees. His long fingers were steepled together, the black Corsican 'C' standing out darkly on his pale skin. Dark bags had settled under his eyes. His pupils were pinpricks when he met their combined gaze. Sweat had slicked a few of his curls, plastering them to his forehead.

He looked like he'd spent the intervening days trying to diffuse a bomb.

Rosalie cocked her head in silent question. He gave a minute shake of his own, repeating the gesture when here eyes darted to Horace then back to him.

Her former right-hand man was perched like a stone gargoyle atop the arm of the farthest sofa. He didn't look at any of them, preferring to chew on the thunderous scowl he had aimed at the floor.

"What's happened?" Rosalie asked at last, "You look like someone's died."

The two were silent. An icy weight settled like a stone in her stomach.

"Who? Not…not the Armels? Not Cedric? I would've known before the two of you, surely-"

"Nobody died." Otto assured, before she could go into a complete tailspin. He cast another furtive look at Horace, who was still glaring at the rug beneath their feet.

"Well spit it out!" snapped Ted, unsettled by their laconic behavior. "You bloody well spooked us bad enough. Go on, what's got him in a twist now?"

Everyone jumped when Horace vaulted out of his seat, suddenly towering over all of them. "Why don't you tell us, Teddy?"

Ted's ears turned pink. "I…I don't know what you mean."

Horace's heavy boots carried loudly across the hardwood floor, an echo of the furious pacing they'd heard on their arrival.

Rosalie couldn't help but look at them as he drew near, noting the path the thick rubber soles had worn into her favorite Belgian rug.

They were a pair of John Lobbs, from St James' in London. Dark, heavy, and well-made...a gift from Otto a couple years back.

"Horace, what are you talking about?"

He turned and jabbed an obstinate finger in Rosalie's face. "Shut up. I'll deal with you in a moment."

The rejoinder had so much venom behind it, she actually took a step backward.

Never, in the entirety of their acquaintance, had Horace spoken to her in such a way.

Satisfied with her wide-eyed silence, he turned his attention back to Ted.

"Tell us, Teddy, how you have one job. One simple job, and you can't manage to do it. You're supposed to keep her safe, you're supposed to protect her interests!"

Ted drew himself to his full height and leveled Horace an indignant scowl. "I am keeping her safe, you prat. She's right here. She's fine!"

Horace scoffed. "Perhaps you'd like to enlighten us as to what the hell Reddington was doing in Vietnam, then?"

Ted's eyes flitted to Rosalie's, then darted away.

"So what." he said, squaring his shoulders and jutting his chin.

"So. What?" Horace snarled, getting within inches of Ted's face, "You let him get to the Jailbreaker! A major client has been compromised! I'd expect that kind of doe-eyed idiocy from Rosalie, but you're supposed to be the one with a level head!"

"Oi!" Ted barked, "You are out of line, Jabare."

Otto rose from his seat as well. "He's right, Horace. You're treading dangerously speaking of the Caïd's daughter like that."

The disgust on Horace's face when he turned to glower at Otto was palpable.

"Who told you?" asked Rosalie, finding her voice. She didn't flinch when Horace's anger turned back toward to her.

"I called the property manager in Vietnam to ensure the handoff went alright. You hadn't made contact, and I was worried." he took a slow, seething breath, "Cánh informed me there had been an altercation, and that you were in a meeting with the Jailbreaker and Raymond Reddington trying to smooth things over."

Rosalie crossed her arms over her chest. "I did. I got his little band of Feds to back down, and Rodney is safely tucked away at a black site, none the wiser. So what's the problem?"

Horace fell completely silent, and for several uncomfortable seconds, he simply stared at her.

She didn't like the way his eyes searched her. Rosalie felt a fresh flare of annoyance unfurl in her chest when he hung his head and gave it a mournful shake.

"I'm giving up on you, Rose. He's got his hooks so deep into you, I don't think even I can't set you free."

Rosalie thought she might choke on the laugh that forced its way out of her. His face darkened once more with a hateful glower.

"God…" she whispered at last, "You are so sure of his wretchedness."

"I am." he snarled, "I am, and you're completely blind to it!"

"Or perhaps I am every bit as convinced of his goodness?"

"Then you're a fool."

"Not fool enough, apparently. You no doubt know, then, that I've let Raymond back into my confidence."

"A deadly mistake."

Rosalie shook her head. "I don't believe that."

"Of course you don't." Horace chuckled, "Because Reddington's got you by your heartstrings. You know, I used to admire that about you? That somehow, despite being in such a violent occupation you held onto your sweetness, your gentility. It was always so endearing-"

"Now you hate that about me."

"I...I don't hate it."

"You do."

The air in the room changed. Where it had been heavy and stifling, the space now felt hollow, frigid, and empty. Teddy shrank in Rosalie's periphery. Otto too took a step backward.

"You can say it."

The encouragement sounded like a threat, even to her own ears. She never once moved her eyes from her former guard. She didn't so much as blink.

"Go ahead, Horace. Tell me how you've grown to hate the best of me. Tell me how much you despise my incessant refusal to think badly of the man I love. Tell me how foolish I am to trust him. Tell me I'm a clueless, lovestruck simpleton. Go on."

Acid had begun to creep into her words, and Horace finally took a step back. Rosalie pursued him relentlessly.

"What's the matter, Horace? A little push back is all it takes to get you to back down? I don't believe that. I don't believe that at all."

Horace's hands were clenched in tight fists, his knuckles turning white with the exertion. His arms shook to keep still.

Rosalie noticed at once.

"Would you like to hit me, Horace? Is that why you're shaking?"

There was a sharp intake of air. She watched his nostrils flare with every steadying breath.

"Do it." she goaded, unblinking when Horace fixed her with a spiteful glare. "If you think you can outrun Raymond Reddington and half of Corsica, I'd love to see you try."

"Rosalie..."

Ted's voice was wary. Otto quieted him with a soft, "Shh..."

When Horace refused to move, Rosalie leaned so she was a breath away from his face.

"Let's get one thing abundantly clear. I hired you to be my right-hand man. I gave you the helm of a multi-billion dollar criminal empire and you proved entirely unworthy of it. But, you were my friend, so even after you abandoned me at the worst possible moment, I saved you from Corsica's wrath. I have given you your life, and you have repaid me with endless derision and discontent and insolence. Now? Now I want to fight. So tell me Horace, tell me all about it. I want to hear every snide comment, every nasty thought that you've been longing to unleash since Raymond took me to his bed." A snarl curled at her upper lip, "Let's draw out all that poison between us and see if the wound left in its wake is too cavernous to heal."

She had done it. Horace's face flushed a dull, angry puce, and he couldn't have held back his fury if he wanted to.

"I'm tired of trying to save you!" he bellowed, taking in great, heaving lungfuls of air. "I'm bloody tired of chasing you across continents willing you to see that Reddington's a monster who would gladly drag you to the depths of hell with him, with no regard for what's right for you.

"You're tired of trying to save me?"

"Yes."

Something snapped inside Rosalie, and out of it swelled a rage so deep she feared she might drown in it.

"From. WHAT?" she roared, throwing her arms wide. "Have you completely forgotten that protecting me is your entire job description? Furthermore, what exactly have you saved me from, Horace? You haven't been here!"

"From yourself!" he barked, "I've been by your side for years, trying desperately to dissuade you from staying involved with that man. Trying desperately to keep you from running all our hard work into the ground-"

"By my side." Rosalie repeated with derision. "You weren't there when we were being chased by the German and Basír. You weren't there when my network was expanding and I was doing everything I could just to keep from caving in on myself. You weren't there for any of it! Teddy stepped up when you couldn't handle it. Teddy kept me alive, Teddy kept me sane! If you've been by my side, where the hell were you last year when I was taken by a drug cartel for days on end?"

Horace blanched. "I didn't know-"

"Didn't know? Ted kept you updated by the minute. You knew for three days what was going on and you did nothing!"

"I knew you'd be alright-"

"Oh, did you? While I and every other woman at that campsite were held in a cattle corral being bullied, brutalised, and very nearly violated, you just knew things would work out in the end? I was locked in a cage, listening to the sounds of dozens of women and children being murdered all around me, and you just knew?"

"I…I-"

"You didn't even show up."

Rosalie's rage quelled and beneath it, all she could feel was how much his absence had hurt.

"Everyone showed up. People I haven't seen in years rushed to my side without a moment's hesitation. You weren't the one to bring me back down that mountainside, it was Raymond. Raymond and Dembe and Ted and my friends."

Horace hung his head in shame, at last out of excuses for himself.

"Tired of saving me…" she hissed, "You haven't saved me from a goddamn thing."

A beat struck in which the two of them just stared at each other, each trying to assimilate when, exactly the other had become a stranger to them.

Without another word, Rosalie turned her back on him.

"Where are you going?" Horace asked, taking a step after her.

She felt the rustle of Otto and Ted coming to flank her on either side, blocking his pursuit.

"You're tired of saving me," she replied, "I'm tired of protecting you."

Horace tried to push his way through, but Rosalie did not look back.

"We agree on nothing," she continued, "And hold slights against one another with ever-increasing venom."

Both Ted and Otto grunted as they tried to keep their comrade in line.

"Rose!"

"This cannot continue; we only disappoint each other."

"Rosalie, I'm sorry!"

"The doors of my network are barred to you from this moment onward. Should Corsica find you, I will not stay their hand."

"Wait, Rosalie! Wait!"

Rosalie hesitated at the threshold of the main hall, a part of her clamoring to turn and take one last look at her oldest companion, to search his features for one last ounce of redemption.

"I'm trying to protect you from him." Horace bellowed, "How can you not see that?"

A weary sigh greeted the renewal of his false assurances, and Rosalie found she no longer had ears for them.

"This is the end of the road for you and I." she replied, "I'm done."

Rosalie stepped over the threshold, careless of the shouting voices echoing down the hall as her feet carried her out the front door and into the frigid night.

River Seine - Paris, France

Rosalie didn't know how long she'd been walking the Seine, but it had been long enough for the streets to empty entirely. It had been snowing for some time, her hair had grown quite damp.

Not so much as a cab passed the place where her restless feet had finally slowed to a stop. She was on the far side of the Pont Notre-Dame again, having circled the Place de la Concorde and cut through Le Jardin des Tuileries sometime earlier. It was still a long walk back to the townhouse, but she had no desire to begin the trek.

Rosalie watched the river below for several long minutes. She wasn't sure she meant all the words that were exchanged between her and Horace. She hoped he hadn't meant everything he had said.

As the minutes passed on, it became obvious to Rosalie that she needed advice, but more than anything she longed for reassurance.

A small, watery laugh bubbled from her throat.

Thirty years old and still, what she wanted was a parent. Someone to tell her it was all going to be alright, even if it didn't seem like it.

She pulled out her burner and dialed the familiar number, hoping against hope that someone would answer.

"Hello?"

"Mélanie," a sigh of relief greeted the nurse's voice. "It's me, can I speak to my mother please?"

An awkward pause issued from the other end of the line.

When Mélanie spoke again, her tone was soft and consoling. "I'm sorry Mademoiselle, but I don't think that would be a good idea right now. Helen is sundowning rather hard."

Rosalie froze, her stomach twisted in a knot. "Maybe…maybe hearing from me would help? Is she mad I haven't called? I know it's been a while-"

"No, no, it's not that," Mélanie assured, "She doesn't- well…she's fixated on finding Magnus at the moment."

"My father? But he's been gone for years."

"As I said, Helen is sundowning pretty hard. She's understandably frustrated, but if you could call again tomorrow, say around eleven? That's when she seems to be at her best."

"Oh…" Rosalie swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Okay. I'll reach out at a better time, then."

"I will let her know you called, of course."

"Right…Thanks, Mel."

Rosalie's fist closed around the burner as she snapped it shut, bringing the hand to her lips as a dry sob escaped her. The sound was cut off by a pulsing vibration.

Horace's number lit up the screen, sending a fresh flare of anger licking at her insides.

Hurling the bit of plastic as hard as she could, Rosalie felt a vindictive sort of pleasure as it whistled through the air and ricocheted off one of the bridge's stone columns before sinking to the bottom of the river in shards.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, but they kept coming. The grief and loneliness she felt was too heavy to be wiped away so quickly. The bitter wind whipped at her raw face, freezing the wet tracks on her cheeks in an instant.

Rosalie looked to the bridge she'd just crossed, and to the long street she had yet to trod.

There was nowhere to go. If she went to another safe house, Horace would only find her there.

She didn't want to talk to him, she realized, she needed time to think.

Rosalie's feet carried her without thought across the Seine, back along the Rue Saint-Antoine, and left up the Rue de Birague.

The edge of the Place des Voges appeared beneath her feet some time later, and her eyes drifted fondly up to its snow-fleeced canopy. There, in the distance, she caught sight of a familiar roof with slanted glass windows reflecting the moonlight.

She stood there a long while, staring longingly at the dark, quiet building and wishing she still had her key.

…Perhaps she could pick the lock?

Rosalie gasped when, as though sensing her need, the windows burst into light.

Raymond and Rosalie's Pied-a-Terre - Place des Voges, Paris, France

Red swept into the Paris apartment doused in snow and one arm laden with takeout.

He'd given Dembe the night off, and it had only taken a small measure of bribery to secure some of his favourites from a local dumpling shop before they closed up for the night.

Once he doffed his outerwear and settled the food on the kitchen table, Red set about stoking the fire and choosing a record for the evening. It was miserably cold outside, but the apartment was toasty warm and its space inviting.

The stereo began to croon an old Monk record as Red turned to wander into the library, dimming the lights along the way.

His fingertips drifted thoughtfully along the stacks, tracing over row upon row of gold-embossed spines.

Now that they'd finished the Wharton, he was on the hunt for a better text with which to woo his girl. For him, Wharton's style always required a palate cleanser, something nimble and light. He lingered on a row of F. Scott Fitzgerald, rolled his eyes at A Farewell to Arms. Dostoevsky was far too heavy, as was the Tolstoy…perhaps a bit of Austen was in order?

His mind was brought back to the present by a sharp knock. Red froze.

He couldn't imagine who would be on his doorstep; not even Dembe knew the apartment's location. There was a chance it was one of the downstairs neighbours, but he sincerely doubted it. He'd never heard from them befo-

Realization dawned on him, offering up the only plausible explanation. Red rushed toward the knocking sound, recklessly leaving his gun holstered as he threw the apartment door wide.

His hunch had been right. Rosalie stood in the hall, no coat, no security, and shivering violently.

"What happened?"

"You're in this?" she asked, a crack entering her voice. "Even for the bad parts?"

"Especially the bad parts." he promised, extending a hand to pull her inside.

Fresh tears spilled onto her pink cheeks, the sight tearing at Red's insides. "I need you."

Some swooping feeling between pleasure and heartbreak settled awkwardly in his chest. He hated seeing Rosalie upset but the knowledge that she'd come to him seeking comfort threw his emotions into an absolute tumult.

"I'm here." he drew her into his arms, enveloping her in a warm, safe hold. "I'm here, little dove."

She clung tightly to him, a hiccup rising from her chest when he lifted her straight out of the boots she wore and coaxed her legs around his middle.

Red nudged the door shut and flipped the various deadbolts, his feet instinctively carrying them up the stairs toward the master suite. The crackling fire was the only source of light, casting an amber glow in the quiet bedroom as he pulled back the blankets and set his passenger in the bed's center. He slipped off his waistcoat, then slid in beside her, gathering her tightly in his arms.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Rosalie shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder, a gut-wrenching sob shaking her entire frame.

"That's alright," he soothed, reaching up to cradle her tear-stained cheek in his palm. His forehead rested against her own, "It's all going to be alright."

She clutched at him, silently asking to be held closer.

Red gladly tightened his hold until she was slotted so perfectly in the hollow of his body that there wasn't a breath of space between them. "There," he said, brushing his thumb over the apple of her cheek, "I've got you, little dove. I've got you."

This brought another heartbreaking sob to Rosalie's lips, the sound cut in two by a violent shiver.

She was utterly frozen. God only knew how long she'd been walking out in this weather.

Worry seeped into Red's chest like a poison.

Rosalie hadn't been this upset since she thought they'd lost Lita. Though he had no idea what happened this time, he assuaged himself with thoughts of flaying alive the person responsible. That corner of his mind paced restlessly, wanting to do something, anything to calm her, but he could only remain still and hold her close.

As the minutes stretched on, the pair settled into the comforting quiet. The sobs slowly receded, and Raymond's body heat managed to warm Rosalie through.

All was still and quiet, and without thinking to, Red drifted off.

He woke to the soft popping crackle of the fire sometime later. The space beside him was cold. He sat up at once, looking blearily around. Rosalie was nowhere to be seen.

The soft clink of crystal drew his focus to a small shadow near the sitting area.

Craning his neck, he caught sight of her curled up in front of the fire, a fresh glass of bourbon perched on her knee. The bottle on the edge of the coffee table was half-empty already.

"You've been up for a while."

Rosalie turned, her drawn face apologetic. "I didn't want to wake you," she murmured, "You were sleeping so well."

Raymond rose from the bed and crossed the room to take up the spot of rug beside her. He eased the glass from her hand, downing its contents with a grimace before setting it aside.

Rosalie didn't protest when he pulled her into his lap, the added warmth and solidity of his body a most welcome change.

She had changed into one of his button-downs. The thin cotton allowed the heat from the fire to permeate more thoroughly, and Red could feel just how hot her skin was beneath the fabric.

His palms moulded to her curves with familiar ease, marveling at how good it felt to have her in his arms like this again.

"Can I ask you something?"

The question came in the softest of whispers against his clavicle.

Red smoothed his hands up and down her back. "Of course, little dove. Anything."

She pulled back to meet his worried gaze with her own bloodshot one. "I didn't realize, when it happened, how hard it must have been for you to deal with Howard Bukowski."

His brow furrowed instantly. Why she was bringing up something that took place nearly two years ago was beyond him. "Tell me what's happened, little dove. Please? I can help."

"Horace is out of control." she whispered, "I don't think I can keep him in my employ any longer, but if I remove him from his position, neither Florian nor I can afford to let him walk free. Letting him go means condemning him to death."

A single hot tear trailed down her cheek as her voice fractured.

"I wanted to ask…I wanted to ask how you knew, when it was time? How did you kn-know Howard was past the point of saving?"

Raymond's heart broke for her.

A renewed sob forced its way out of Rosalie's throat and he pulled her back into him, whispering words of comfort.

He knew things had never again been quite right between her and Horace. The man's departure from his role as her right hand had left a gaping wound between them that just never seemed to heal. Red thought with little generosity that the divide between them might have had a chance at repairing itself had Horace resisted the urge to be a cantankerous old wart every time Rosalie made a choice he didn't agree with.

Still, for Rosalie to have reached this point, his behavior must have escalated. Red knew she took Horace back into her syndicate partly to save him from Florian's wrath. To make her rescind such a lifeline, he had to have made several missteps.

"What brought this about?" He asked, once she had calmed.

Rosalie explained the argument she and Horace had earlier that night, the things he'd said, and the hard realization she was coming to.

Every revelation made a snarl curl at Red's upper lip, fighting to dampen the hot, bubbling anger he felt brewing in his chest. How dare he. He thought, toying with one of Rosalie's curls in an attempt to distract him self. That miserable son of a-

"I can't allow this to continue." she finished, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt. "Horace is intimately involved with my operations. If he feels so bold as to speak to me that way, how can I possibly trust him not to undermine my decisions in a professional setting?"

"I don't think he would," said Red, truthfully. "I believe there is little Horace wouldn't do in this world if it meant protecting you."

"He said he's tired of saving me." Rosalie shrugged, "I suppose in his eyes, I'm being reckless with that sacrifice by getting involved with you again."

Raymond's brow puckered into a thoughtful frown. "You're sure it's not something more than that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Horace seems to feel entitled to your well-being in a way none of us understand." he said, "I've known guards to take their role a bit too far, and it's not at all uncommon for some to develop romantic feelings for a client, but I've never known one to almost resent their charge for needing protection. Horace seems to be personally affronted when you step out of line…I can't put my finger on why he would feel that way."

Rosalie shook her head. "There's never been any romantic notions between us. Regardless, it's not his place to dictate my life. I don't care much about his reasoning, beyond what might explain his behavior. The fact of the matter is I'm no longer in control. I can't trust Horace to do as I ask. If I want to take my life in one direction and he believes it should go in another, I don't trust him to hold my interests above his own…but-"

The last word seemed to echo in the room like a shotgun blast.

Raymond nodded his understanding. "If you truly cannot trust him, then he cannot live, Rosalie. Florian will not take him back, nor can you afford someone so close to you running unchecked. He would have to be…" he tried phrasing it a little more delicately, "...removed."

"I would have to kill him." said Rosalie, stating the matter for what it was. "Even if I weren't the one to pull the trigger, even if I called Florian and had one of his capos do it, I am the one ending his life."

"Yes."

Red watched her intently, savoring the intimacy of being the pillar of support she needed. He understood Rosalie's decision on Horace would forever change the scope of her life. Everything for the next several years would be split into the time before and the time after, regardless of whether she actually pulled the trigger. He let her contemplate the matter in silence for several long minutes.

"I suppose," he added after some time, "To answer your question, I didn't know for certain how I was going to handle Howard until I'd learned the full extent of his betrayal and I was looking him in the eye. I can't say I know what to do in every situation, but I do know that. You've gotta look them in the eye when you do it."

Rosalie shuddered in his arms. "I don't know if I could do that. I keep thinking of my friend, the one who got me through a lot of firsts in this life. When I think of pulling the trigger, I think of the best of him. My Horace. Not this one, not this angry, miserable..."

"You don't have to have an answer right now." Red assured, "Come back to bed, little dove. Let's quiet that mind."

She couldn't help a small smile as she allowed him to guide her back beneath the covers. He wasted no time in wrapping himself around her and descending into one of his many stories, allowing his low, soothing voice to quiet her fears and send her off into a deep, untroubled sleep.

Raymond woke to the soft chime of the grandfather clock on the floor below.

Pale light was just beginning to pour over the window's edge. He could hear the fire still crackling merrily in the hearth. His hand crept across the bed in search of its other occupant only to come up empty.

He lifted his head and frowned at the vacant space, a low grumble greeting the sight.

"Good morning, scoundrel."

The gentle whisper came from his opposite side.

Red turned to find Rosalie right beside him, curled up in one of the fireside armchairs with a cup of tea perched on her knee.

He beamed and flopped back into the pillows, extending a hand to thread his fingers through hers. "Come back to bed, little dove."

She gave him an indulgent smile and set her tea aside, crawling back into his arms without a fight as he drew the blankets around them. Another smile greeted him when their eyes met, and before Raymond could think of anything else to say, Rosalie was kissing him.

A soft moan tumbled low in his throat; it felt like it had been ages since he'd kissed her properly. Heedless of his recent promise not to do so, Red deepened the kiss at once, clinging to her slight frame and pleading for entrance with his tongue.

A little sigh encouraged him as her lips parted eagerly.

His tongue tangled with hers, teasing and taunting until Rosalie was hitching one of her legs high on his hip, drawing him deeper into her hold.

Red was lost to the flame that reignited so readily between them. Without thinking, he cupped the curve of her backside and shifted so he was firmly nestled in the valley of her thighs.

A soft gasp registered the change, followed by a renewed vigor in Rosalie's lips on his. Her fingertips carded along the sensitive nape of his neck, bringing him back to her so she could nibble his bottom lip.

This brought another moan to Red's throat. His weight settled over her, pinning his lover beneath him just how she liked.

Rosalie whined when his hips rocked hard against hers, bringing the fullness of his rigid length flush with her core.

"Ray…"

They were playing with fire, but Red couldn't help how his body demanded her. It'd been too long since he'd known her touch, and his instincts were driving him to that end with reckless abandon.

Rosalie grabbed him by the lapels, tugging him to the side with surprising strength and rolling so she was the one on top.

He let out a dark chuckle when she claimed his lips again, kissing him dizzy as her hips rolled against his own. "So needy." he purred, gasping a breath before surrendering himself to more of those ravenous kisses.

He growled his discontent when she suddenly pulled away, dragging her nails down his heaving chest as she went.

Rosalie's breasts rose with each breath she took, supplying her body with the necessary oxygen she'd been withholding in favor of devouring him.

"We need to stop."

"Why?"

"Because you won't make love to me," she huffed, "And if we keep this up, I'm going to want more."

Raymond dropped his hands back to the pillows, his conviction waning with every second Rosalie spent on top of him. If she only knew how he ached for her…especially now, safely tucked away in their apartment and knowing she wanted him. His eyes fixed themselves to that spot between her legs, desperate for even a glimpse of the treasure that resided there.

Rosalie tittered, tilting her head to coax his gaze back to her own. "You don't get to look at me like that if you're not going to do something about it. I'm perfectly aware of how much you're holding back, handsome. I just wish you wouldn't."

"Me too…" he sighed, tracing the backs of his fingers longingly along the curve of her waist, "So…so much."

She batted his hand away with another disgruntled sigh, dismounted, then scampered off to the ensuite.

Raymond rose and pursued her into the bath, grinning when he managed to scoop her up and deposit her atop the sink.

A little squeak met the sensation of cold marble meeting warm skin, and his chortling earned him a glower in response.

"Stop that." Rosalie poked irritably at the corner of his mouth, which had begun to twitch with amusement, "No smirking."

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it, little dove."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Scoundrel."

"Minx." He replied, thumbing her chin. Another laugh echoed in the bath when she wrapped herself around him, insolently pulling him back into the cradle of her thighs.

"You make it so hard to behave," she pouted against his lips, "You make me want you and then tell me I can't have you..."

Raymond kissed her twice as penance.

"What are your plans for today?" he asked, derailing the discussion before he could be compelled to give in, "I'm sure you'll want to handle Horace sooner rather than later-"

The playful sparkle in Rosalie's eyes was snuffed out at the mere mention of her guard.

"Yeah…" she sighed heavily, "I suppose I should head back."

The immediate change in her demeanor gave him pause. "…Rosalie?"

She hopped from the sink with a stiff smile hitched on her lips. "I'm going to shower; then I'll be out of of your hair."

Red stood there for several seconds trying to assimilate the sudden shift in the atmosphere between them. He didn't want her to go, quite the opposite. He wanted Rosalie to stay with him as long as she possibly could…

When the shower started running, she looked at him expectantly. He stumbled over an awkward nod, then exited the bath so she could have some privacy.

He tutted to himself when the door closed behind him with a snap. It seemed he had made a misstep.

Rosalie had been putting on a good show, but she was obviously still feeling vulnerable over what to do with Horace. She needed more time, and he had unwittingly made her feel as though she needed to get on with it.

"Now who's the lead-headed dolt…" he chastised himself.

Making a split-second decision, he pulled out his burner and dialed.

"Ray!"

"Teddy."

"Please," Ted gasped, "Please tell me Rosalie's with you."

"She is; showed up on our doorstep last night."

"Buggering hell…we've been looking for hours! Where are you? I can have a car brought 'round. Horace has some apologizing to d-"

"Rosalie's taking the day off." said Red, "I only reached out to ensure you didn't call in the cavalry."

"Oh…okay…" the zipper of Ted's jacket clicked noisily against the phone's mouthpiece, "I guess…Did she say when she'd be back? She has a meeting with King state side tomorrow-"

"I'll bring her back when she's ready." Raymond replied, "If that means rescheduling her meeting with Earl, I trust you can handle it."

"Right. Alright, then...I suppose we'll be at her townhouse off the boulevard Saint-Germain, when she's ready?"

"Ted."

"Y-yeah?"

"Horace is not to leave your sight until Rosalie returns. Understood?"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the line.

Raymond wasn't certain where Rosalie's mind stood on the matter, but he needed to ensure her guard didn't make a run for it before she'd had the chance to decide. The time would inevitably come for her to act, and he had no doubt she would rise to the occasion with her usual grace. If Teddy could be trusted to keep tabs on Horace, Red could focus solely on his girl.

"She's really angry, isn't she?" said Ted, his voice oddly small.

"Horace stepped well beyond his post." Red replied, "He's lucky I don't make a habit of taking out other peoples' trash. It'll be up to Rosalie to decide where they go from here. Just make sure he doesn't go anywhere."

"Will do. I'll keep an eye on him, Ray."

The moment Ted confirmed, Raymond hung up and dialed Dembe.

"You are late." the younger man groused, skipping the formalities. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes." said Red, "Well, no," he corrected, "I'm fine. Why don't you take the car back into town? Rosalie and I are grabbing breakfast at that little cafe around the corner from the Place des Voges, you should join us. I'm sure she'd love to see you."

"You will miss your meeting in London."

"Tell the Feds I need a rain check."

"They are not going to like that. Agent Knightley is still seething about the Jailbreaker."

Raymond rolled his eyes. "That's nothing new. Tell them I've got a lead on a much bigger fish I need to pursue before bringing them in."

Dembe gave an unamused tutt, "Do you actually have a lead?"

"Of sorts."

"Raymond…"

"I'm taking the day off, Dembe. If they want to get a hair across themselves, that's no skin off my teeth. I'll bring them something of value, I always do."

"A day off?"

"Yes."

"…with Rosalie?"

He could hear the grin in the other man's voice.

"The two of you aren't running off to Norway this time?" Dembe teased, chuckling when Red blustered in response.

"Don't tempt me, we're just taking a breather. She's exhausted and Horace has been his usual charming self…If you don't want to join us, I'm sure she'll understand."

He let the weight of Rosalie's disappointment hang in the air, knowing full well his friend would bend under such pressure. A renewed grin split his lips when another sigh reached his ear.

"Which cafe?"

When Raymond returned to the bedroom, it was to find Rosalie still undressed and nursing her cup of tea by the bedroom's frosted windows.

Her eyes stared without seeing at the snow-capped canopy below, as though she were a thousand miles away.

Red's footsteps carried softly across the rug, bringing him within reach of the delicate slope of her shoulders. He slipped an arm around her middle, pulling her slight frame into him as he trailed his lips along the expanse of dewy skin afforded.

Rosalie opened to him without hesitation, melting gladly into his comforting hold.

"I don't want to go back." she confessed in a timid voice, "I'm sure you have things to do, but can I please just stay here a while?"

"I don't have to be anywhere," he assured, the tip of his nose tracing a line down her neck, "-and this is our apartment; you can stay however long you like. I even contacted Ted to make sure he didn't call in any protocols during your absence."

A renewed warmth blossomed in Raymond's chest as Rosalie turned into his arms, resting her chin on his sternum and batting those striking gray eyes up at him so sweetly it hurt.

"Really?"

"Mhm…" he traced his thumb over the apple of her cheek, "You're going to let me take care of you, little dove."

Her brow puckered into an endearing frown. "Take care of me?"

He nodded.

"You need it, sweetheart. You're burning the candle at both ends with only your guards to lean on, and I don't think either have been doing the job properly."

Rosalie gave him a little smirk. "Oh? And you're an expert, I take it?"

"I am." he proclaimed, "Your happiness is a cherished pastime, little dove, one I take very seriously."

"Tell me then," she grinned, "What does it take? I'm curious to see just how well you know me."

Raymond pursed his lips into a thoughtful frown. "When you're upset you become a little hermit. You want to stay at the safe house and be tucked away somewhere cozy. Before you sequester, however, you like to go on a hunt for baked goods and some frilly coffee drink. That's usually followed by a quick trip to the market for some provisions for a quiet dinner at home. A book, on occasion, isn't untoward either."

Rosalie's countenance softened with every word, a bit of moisture pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"You like to be held close." he continued, pulling her tighter to him for emphasis, "You never say it, but when I get too far for your hands to reach, you get this adorable little scowl on your face, like you're trying very hard to divine a way to get back into my arms without having to ask."

Rosalie blushed and grimaced, closing her eyes to his knowing gaze.

"You need kisses," he added, pressing his lips gently to her cheek, forehead, and nose. He chuckled when she lifted her chin upward, beckoning for him to continue. "You're so greedy for them when you're in a bad mood," he teased, "You always tilt your face up like that, quietly demanding I give you more…it just might be my favorite thing."

He cradled the curve of her neck and kissed a burning trail along her jawline, garnering a happy little sigh.

"Okay." she admitted, eyes still closed, "You know me well."

Raymond brushed her nose with his own, teasing with just how close he could get to renewing their earlier makeout session. "I'm glad you approve. Now get dressed, we're going in search of pastries and a hazelnut latte the size of your head. After that we can come back to the apartment and be a couple of layabouts."

"God that sounds so nice..."

"Off you go, then," he patted her towel-clad bottom with a heavy hand, "We want to get down to the boulangerie while the croissants are still warm."

Rosalie tittered and scampered from his hold, stopping a few steps from the chair where her clothes lay neatly folded. "Do you have a coat I can borrow? I left mine at the townhouse..."

Red cocked his head, "Little dove, you have an entire wardrobe here."

"No I don't?" she replied, mirroring his frown.

"You do," he thumbed her chin as he passed, "I hung them up myself, you take up the whole right side."

"What-?"

Rosalie bounded into the closet, a squeal erupting when she encountered the contents therein.

"I forgot I had these sent!"

Raymond rounded the corner to find her gleefully sifting through hanger after hanger of missing wardrobe. He chuckled at the exclamation which greeted every discovered article, holding out his arm for her to use as she selected a thick cream-colored turtleneck and a flouncy little tweed skirt she knew he loved. A pair of fleece tights followed, along with a cashmere beret and a pair of tall riding boots. Her perusal halted upon reaching the leather jacket he'd gotten her that first Christmas they'd been working together.

"I thought I lost it…" Rosalie slipped the item from its hanger and clutched it lovingly to her chest. "I looked for months and months…I even made Horace backtrack to every safe house we stayed in before Colombia; I couldn't find it anywhere."

To Red's surprise, a tear trickled down her cheek. "It's been here, safe and sound." he assured, brushing the droplet away with his thumb.

A small giggle shook off her sadness a moment later. "No wonder my wardrobe has felt lacking this past year; you've had all my favorite clothes."

"I'm sorry I didn't send them back." said Red, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Had I known you were missing them-"

"No," she added the jacket to the stack with a smile, "I'm glad they were here."

Getting dressed proved to be a near-fatal test for Raymond. It had been too long since he'd engaged in such simple intimacy with his companion, and it seemed as though every little thing she did sent a vicious hunger skating across his nerves. A pair of fleece thigh-highs had never caught his attention so fully, a bulky sweater had never looked quite so becoming…

Fully dressed and ready to go, he didn't even have the benefit of his own wardrobe to provide a distraction from the way the skirt she chose draped perfectly over the soft curve of her backside, just long enough to allow a sliver of skin to come into view as she applied a swipe of lipstick in his shaving mirror.

"How do I look?" She asked, perfectly unaware of the lascivious thoughts running rampant in his mind.

Red shook himself from his trance and rifled through his coat pocket. "Hmm…It needs something…"

Rosalie twisted and turned in the mirror, pouting when she couldn't find the outfit's shortcoming. "What's missing?"

"Keys."

"Key-?" she turned on the ball of her foot, coming face to face with the familiar brass key dangling from his forefinger. Her features softened.

"Oh…"

Raymond took her hand, turned it over, and placed the key where it belonged.

A bright smile greeted its weight in her palm, her fingers closing around it at once. An eyebrow arched knowingly in his direction, "We just got back together and you're asking me to move in again?"

"We're not dating yet." he retorted gleefully, "And I'm not asking."

Rosalie couldn't help a laugh. "No? Just shoving a key in my hand and deciding I live here?"

He stooped to kiss her cheek, threading a scarf around her neck as he did so.

"My dear, you never moved out. I'm merely making sure you don't have to contemplate breaking and entering next time you visit."

Carette - Paris, France - March 5th, 2001

"Dembe!"

Rosalie threw her arms around the younger man upon finding him waiting outside their usual patisserie. The threesome wasted no time in taking a table inside and ordering a host of hot drinks and delicate pastries.

Dembe was particularly delighted by the hot chocolate selection, and the miniature mountain of whipped cream brought to their table had bordered on indecent.

Red had sipped his tea and enjoyed the endless banter that broke out between his companions, their joyful reunion punctuated only by Rosalie coaxing him into various bites of croissants, madeleines, and macarons.

It took a few hours for them to have their fill, after which they were treated to a trip to Rosalie's cashmere dealer, a portly, genial fellow who maintained a small along the southern edge of the Place des Voges.

The cramped shop was packed floor to ceiling with crates and valets bearing stacks upon stacks of sweaters, scarves, coats, hats, blankets, even the occasional pair of socks. Raymond admired the selection as he paced the aisles, selecting a pair of cashmere-lined leather gloves that had called to him.

Rounding the corner, he found Dembe holding a stack of textiles as tall as his torso and bearing a stout, silent frown.

"What?"

"You brought me here so she would have two people to mollycoddle." he scolded, gesturing to the stack of sweaters and cardigans he'd been cajoled into accepting.

"Yeah," said Red, "But look how happy she is..."

Rosalie could be seen flitting through the sea of crates with the shop's flat-footed owner pattering merrily after her, pulling stack after stack of dyed textiles for their perusal.

Raymond smiled to himself, "I just want to make her happy."

She came back with a fresh stack of scarves, this time in a multitude of reds.

Dembe was just about to dissuade her when Rosalie bypassed him and draped the first length of fabric across Red's shoulders.

"It's dreary in London." she insisted, when he could only smirk, "Besides, bordeaux always did look dashing on you, love."

Dembe was given a reprieve after the cashmere dealer, citing some business he needed to attend to on Red's behalf before they returned to London.

They bid each other farewell, whereupon Raymond and Rosalie set out in search of amusement.

Their wish had been granted in the form of a tiny little bookshop on the eastern edge of the Place des Voges, manned by a tiny little woman who bellowed at them to shut the door behind them.

A solid hour was spent perusing the shelves in search of reading material.

Rosalie found herself struggling to find something which caught her eye. She didn't really feel like something new, and so ended up on a row of classic novels bound in crisp new covers.

Jane Eyre shone up at her in gold embossed letters, calling her to its pages like a homing beacon. They needed a new book...surely Raymond couldn't begrudge her a little Brönte?

The familiar sound of his footsteps echoed in the tiny shop, somewhere behind the row where she stood.

"Psst!"

She turned around and peered through the gap in the shelves, catching a pair of clever jade eyes as their owner stooped to meet her gaze.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Do we have a copy of this at home?" asked Rosalie, passing the Brönte through the gap.

Red turned the text over in his hands, eyes crinkling with amusement, then passed it back. "We do. Do you like that cover? We can have two copies, if you like."

"No, no, we don't need two. Well-" she hesitated, a slender brow arching in his direction, "Will you be very cross with me if I write inside the one we have at home?"

Raymond gave her that look that said he couldn't possibly be cross about anything when she kept saying 'we' and 'home' like she'd finally begun to believe the Paris apartment was theirs again. He circled the end cap, beaming when he caught her peeking around the corner to see where he'd gone.

"Our books." he replied, bending to place a chaste kiss to her lips, "You're allowed to notate all you want."

Rosalie could feel her cheeks burn hot, but she managed to stay on task. "How many of our books are first editions, Mr. Reddington?"

"Hmmm…" he flashed her that roguish smile of his, "All of them."

She let out a scoff, ignoring his renewed chortling in favor of flouncing over to the checkout and plopping the hardback onto the seller's counter.

As though she would desecrate a first edition by writing in it…honestly.

The grey-haired and stooping woman behind the cash register wrapped the tome in thick brown paper and took the fifteen francs Red held out with a gentle smile.

"Quelle belle paire." she murmured, speaking to Rosalie from behind a secretive hand. Her eyes flitted once in Raymond's direction, then back to her customer.

"Je suis une fille chanceuse, n'est-ce pas?" Rosalie whispered back, plucking her book from the counter with a kiss for the old madam, who laughed merrily and waved them out into the cold.

"What did she say?" Red asked, falling into step beside her as they exited the shop.

Rosalie tucked her arm delicately in his own. "She said you look like a cad and I should take you for every cent you have. I told her you're a scoundrel, and I agree."

A nearby flock of pigeons scattered at the sound of Raymond's roaring laugh, the sound echoing off the nearby buildings to bring a renewed smile to Rosalie's face as they made their way back to their apartment.

The evening was spent holding down various furniture throughout the apartment, ordering takeout, and simply enjoying each other's company

Rosalie made it halfway through notating the margins in her new book before finally conceding to a long nap in front of the fire that turned into another impromptu sleepover. When they woke, the sun was still below the horizon.

"You could stay again tonight." Red whispered, kissing along her shoulder.

"Mmm…if I do, I'll never leave."

"Wouldn't that be a shame."

She gave a half-hearted titter, "I've gotta deal with Horace. Perhaps once this is all over we can hermit away for a few weeks."

"I like the sound of that."

They lay there in a pile of pillows and blankets for another half-hour, not saying a word.

"Will you take me back to the safe house?" Rosalie asked at last.

Raymond nodded. "Of course, I'll go warm up the car."

She placed a staying hand on his arm before he could get up. "Can't we walk? Just because I need to get back doesn't mean we need to hurry…I thought we could take a stroll along the wall overlooking the river."

"That's perfectly fine, my dear."

They bundled up and made their way along the Rue de la Rivoli, strolling lazily the whole way back to Rosalie's townhouse. A fifteen minute walk turned into the better part of an hour, their footsteps slow and meandering. Raymond kept the conversation light and enjoyable, ensuring he made her laugh and smile, waiting patiently until she was ready to face her guard.

When they at last made the turn onto the Boulevard Saint-Germain, it was to find the safe house already alight.

"Call me if you need…anything."

The offer of Kaplan's services hung in the air, and Rosalie acknowledged it with a solemn nod.

Red forced himself to retreat down the steps, despite the corner of his mind that was demanding to go inside and handle Horace Jabare himself.

"...Ray?"

Red turned back to find Rosalie inches from him, dark eyes holding his with that ardent affection that grew more familiar by the day. She cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb over the stubble there as she had done a thousand times before. He softened when she took a slow, trembling breath.

"Try and catch me soon?...I'm tired of running from your arms."

A quiet thrill swooped into Red's chest, snatching hold of him like a sudden, white-hot burst of sunlight.

Rosalie beamed up at him, and he was kissing her again.

Daybreak hugged the edge of the horizon, drenching them in dawn's first golden haze.

He clung to her with a desperate hunger, reveling in the knowledge that at last, she wanted to be found.

"I'll be hot on your heels come morning." he promised, releasing her reluctantly from his hold.

Rosalie smiled and patted his shoulder. Another steadying breath, and she was back inside the safe house.

Her feet carried her to the informal living room, following the hushed voices emanating from within. She rounded the corner to find all three of them sitting on the home's sofa.

"Horace."

The man in question lifted his head, black eyes glazed over with fatigue.

Rosalie tilted her own head toward the door.

"Walk with me."