Chapter Two; Fury

She is sprawled out on the sand, the sun slowly turning her skin pink. He watches as she tenses, she must have finally heard his approach. Her fingers, tracing their way through the sand, fall still as if in anticipation for what he has to say. She glances up at him, brow slightly furrowed. He wonders why.

"I have some news, Lizzie," he rumbles, and her eyes fall to the phone in his hand. "It's about Harold Cooper."

She flinches slightly, it wouldn't have been obvious to anyone else, the way her eyes slightly narrow. She nods her head, encouraging him to continue. He is not sure if he can. He is not sure if he has made the right decision to come out to her, to tell her. He desperately misses Dembe.

"He has been detained," Red breathes, his grip on the phone tightening as Liz bolts upright, "He has been prosecuted for treason and accessory to murder."

It hurts, the way she looks at him, as if he should have stopped it, prevented it. He probably could have, but her safety is paramount. Harold Cooper is nothing compared to Elizabeth Keen. It hurts more when her hands begin to tremble; tears begin to well in her blue eyes. He takes a step forward.

"How'd you know?" She asks, her voice hoarse and choked with emotion. She steps away from him. He glances down at the sand, throat tightening slightly.

"I still have many sources in America, Lizzie."

She nods her head, as if she didn't expect anything else. She bends down, her back covered in sand and scoops up her towel. He watches as she brushes past him, her cheeks glistening with tears.

"Lizzie," he calls after her, a futile attempt, as she walks back to the villa. Red sighs, spinning on his heel to stare out to sea. He rubs at his eyes, utterly exhausted. They're safe here, in Fiji, but they'll need change soon, they'll need company other than each other if they are to survive this venture. Liz is broken, unsettled and seemingly shattered, the fire in her all but smothered by the weight of Red's world.

The guilt is unbearable, choking in its intensity. He feels as if it seeps out of his pores, into the air around him. His sweet Lizzie is merely a shell of her old self. His lifestyle was poison to her. She had dropped a significant amount of weight, her face pale and drawn even though she was out under the sun every day. She looked as if she was dying. Her eyes were dimmed, faded.

The phone in his hand buzzes and he sucks a breath in between his teeth, before looking at the caller ID and smiling.

"Kate, what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her stern voice, so steady an octave, grounds him. Her voice is home and stability and everything before that Christmas Eve. He turns to look back at the villa, Liz is nowhere in sight.

"Donald Ressler," she states, as if that name without any context doesn't cause his heart to stutter within his chest. Liz would be devastated if something befell her partner.

"What about him?"

"He's hunting Dembe," Mr Kaplan intoned and Raymond could swear that her lips would have quirked up at that statement.

Red hadn't laughed in weeks. His cheeks ached and his chest rumbled. He closed his eyes, the mirth seeping through him at the thought. Ressler had more of a chance at catching Lizzie than Dembe.

"And I require this information because?" Red questions, his smile only fading marginally.

"Because, I assumed you'd need something to cheer you up Raymond."

With a click the call ends and Red is left to stare at the phone, the sound of the waves crashing along the shore his only company.

He would need to head back soon, to give Lizzie the comfort she would allow him. He sighs, pockets the phone and begins to amble his way back towards the villa. His steps are heavy with trepidation. As he steps onto the cobbled path that winds through the gardens, her figure passes by one of the windows, her fingers threaded through her hair, before she disappears out of sight. He jogs up the steps, his footsteps loud on the deck as he pulls his armour around him, imaging a confidence he does not feel.

The French doors were already open, the cool air of the air conditioner wafting out into the humid climate that caused the beads of sweat upon Red's upper lip. He steps in and sees that she is sitting on the couch, her knees folded beneath her as she sips at a bottle of water. Her eyes are riveted on him. He knows that look and sighs. He palms his fedora and places it on the coffee table between them.

"I do not think this is best to do now, Lizzie," he states, noting the way her lips pull into a thin line. "If you have questions about Harold, I am willing to answer them. But I am presuming you have another line of questioning."

If she was taken aback by his intuition, she did not show it, she merely shifted so that she was sitting upright, her elbows rested on her knees. Her hair was getting long, and fell around her face as she looked at him. Her expression, the one he had seen so many times during interrogations. She looked slightly like Agent Malik.

"I want you to answer questions about my mother," she states, like she has so many times before. As if she actually expects him to answer this time.

He sits in the chair opposite her, biding his time, praying that for once what he says will not result in her anger and distrust. His hand ghosts over the back of his head before he shifts forward, sitting on the edge of his seat, wanting to be closer.

"Lizzie, there are many things that we want in this world, and most of the time people are able to grant them for us," he begins, ignoring the way her lips seem to pull back into a snarl, "but I need you to understand that your questions are futile, that all I want in this world is your safety. If you have not noticed the lengths and extremes I am willing to go to protect you, then I am telling you now. There is nothing you could do or say that will make me put your life in jeopardy."

His placating tone and carefully articulated words do nothing to stop the storm of fury that flashes through her eyes. Red braces himself for her tirade, but instead nothing comes. Her movements are jerky as she stands. Her muscles are tight as she storms past him and out the door. Red turns and watches her go and wonders how many more times he'll have watch her walk away from him before she leaves for good.