AN: A small fill-in chapter. Thanks for the support. And special thanks to criminalkeen for being a great beta. We're almost finished here. I hope jackandsamforever liked how I handled her prompt/secret santa gift. Two more chaps after this one.
Disclaimer: I do not own TBL
Chp. 12
That night Red woke from a dream. A dream where Dembe had punched him square in the face for how Red had treated Liz. He only vaguely remembered what he said, but seeing the mess, he had a fairly good idea what had went on. Red wanted to slap himself. The way he had treated her hadn't been fair. It hadn't been her fault; he knew that. He would talk to her, but first he needed a shower. If he looked as bad as he felt, he didn't even want to look into a mirror.
After taking care of himself, Red made his way through the house, checking every room for Liz. His last stop was the bedroom, but he couldn't even find her there. Just as he was about to call out for someone, anyone to help him find her, he noticed a piece of paper on the mattress. His heart stopped when he saw the necklace and ring he'd given her lying on it. This wasn't happening. Red quickly walked over and took the strip of paper from the bed. The ink was smudged; she must have cried, but he could read the words just fine.
'I'm sorry' was all there was and Red felt gravity pull him down, until he was sitting on the floor, his back against the bed. A cold fist closed around his heart and the pain in his chest was almost unbearable. He felt a hot wetness run down his cheeks and couldn't hold in the sob that loudly escaped his throat.
That was how Mr. Kaplan found her employer a couple of hours later. Still sobbing and clutching the piece of paper against his chest.
"Oh, dearie..."
"She's gone, " he said. "She's gone."
"Oh my..." Kaplan touched his shoulder briefly. "I will check with security to see -"
"She's been with me for over five years. She knows how to hide. If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be."
The Blacklist The Blacklist The Blacklist
Almost two months later, Liz walked through the streets of Venice. She had travelled a lot through Italy and would move on to South America in a couple of days. From there on she didn't know. The last weeks had been horrible; she had even stayed in a hospital for a while. She had to leave Italy and forget about everything.
Liz saw a little café on the left hand side of the road and decided that only some good old Italian espresso would brighten her day. Before she could even walk past the tables out front, her eyes landed on a pair, sitting in the shade. There was just no way. But the trademark fedora alone told her exactly that she was right. He looked as good as ever and even smiled from time to time. Who was that sitting with him? Was that... but it couldn't be... or could it? Was it really Madeline Pratt?