Red had mentioned, after he managed to get her to her bedroom and tucked in, that he wanted to get them to Europe, into the Northern Hemisphere and somewhere isolated, where the Cabal would struggle to find them. She nodded sleepily into her pillow, willing to follow him as long as they were together, as long as he didn't leave her like he had that night.
So as she pads out into the kitchen, sleepily grasping the coffee that Red has left her on the bench, she frowns at his agitated tone in the living room. She pokes her head around the corner, and there he is; dressed in a dark blue suit and brown shoes, his fedora perched on his head and burgundy sunglasses on. He holds a phone to his ear and he's pacing before the hearth. He seems frustrated, but when he glances over and sees Lizzie in her daggy pyjama pants and t-shirt, his face softens and he ends the call with a few abrupt words. There are purple smudges beneath his eyes; he didn't get any sleep.
"Change of plans, Lizzie, we won't be heading back to Europe today," He indicates to the phone in his hand, "an associate has made contact, they believe that the Cabal has already alerted most of their contacts within Europe that it is where we are most likely to go. They're ready for us."
Lizzie sighs after she takes a sip of her coffee, glancing around the beautiful cottage, wishing that they could stay longer.
"So, where are we going?"
Red smiles at her sadly, because he knows that she wants to stay here, but there isn't the slightest possibility that he would allow that to happen.
"Luckily, my contact has an answer for us. We will be heading to Australia, or Adelaide to be more specific. There is a family there; they'll be willing to shelter us for a few weeks."
Liz grimaces, bile rising in her throat, at the thought of endangering an innocent family. She wonders if Red is conscious of the fact that he is setting the Hounds of Hell on them. Going by the darkness in his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips, he is. So Liz jerkily nods her head and goes to pack her bags once more. She idly contemplates never unpacking again.
Red doesn't follow her, doesn't try to stop her like he has every other time they've had to up and leave, and Liz doesn't know what to make of that. Perhaps he has just given up, but that didn't seem like him. So she folds her clothes with a frown, unconsciously gnawing on the inside of her lip.
Liz drags her suitcase outside, not looking back at the cottage, knowing that it would only sadden her further. Jackson approaches, a small smile on his face. She passes him her suitcase, pointedly avoiding looking at the dark purpling on his cheek. Her eyes flicker over to Red, his mouth is set in a grim line; he is disappointed. She feels a slight pang of regret shoot through her, though not for her actions. She'd come to the conclusion, perhaps more of a realisation, that she would now go to any lengths necessary to keep Raymond Reddington alive.
They drive to the airport in silence, the tension between them stifling. Red's expression seems calculating as he stares out the window. Though they'd gone to bed with a relatively good humour between them, there were many things left unsaid. He was furious, probably still is, that she'd attempted to go back after him, to escape and endanger herself. Liz can't bring herself to care, and so she stares stonily out of her own window, waiting for his sulk to end.
Jackson glides the car up to a private airstrip and the plane awaiting them isn't Red's. After they bid the driver goodbye, and Liz apologises for the night before, she glances at Red questioningly. He informs her that a friend owed him, that they'd be able to pass through airspace reasonably undetected, or merely unquestioned. They lapse back into silence as they board the plane, Red rubbing at his eyes as if they are dry.
Once they take flight, Liz leans over and places her hand on Red's knee. He lounges across from her, a glass of scotch in his hand. He quirks an eyebrow at her, his eyes briefly flickering down to her hand. She quickly retracts it, noticing the twitch in his cheek as she does so.
"You should sleep, Red," she tells him, not sounding half as confident as she had first planned to be. He had unsettled her. "You look like you could use it."
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but he shakes his head before taking a sip of his scotch. She wonders if he plans on drinking his way into oblivion. She stands and he tilts his head to look up at her, bringing his arms into his side so she has room to sit.
She grabs the jacket he had draped onto the arm of the sofa, appreciating the soft wool beneath her fingertips. His brows knit together as she folds it into a makeshift pillow and places it on her lap. She pats it expectantly, meeting his questioning gaze.
"I'm fine, Lizzie," he mumbles, looking away from her and towards the cockpit. She needs him to do this, needs to feel his presence and reassure herself that he is okay, alive. Last night had been agonising, terrifying.
She remembers screaming at Jackson, lunging for the wheel, because they'd just left Red back there, alone. He'd smiled at her, that self-sacrificing smile she'd seen too often, sad, certain and resolved as they'd screeched off into the night, leaving smoke in their wake. Jackson had resorted to pulling a gun on her, at her wild efforts of escape, his expression grim as he navigated through traffic, only one hand on the wheel. She'd leant away from the weapon, but managed to scoff at him, calling his bluff, because if he hurt her and Red survived, God let him survive, the Concierge of Crime would surely, and mercilessly, kill him. He shrugged, countering that if he let her go after him, Red would kill him anyway. He kept the gun trained on her, so she sat in her chair, panic roiling within her as she tried to rearrange her scattered mind, to form some kind of plan to get him back.
As the car crunched to a stop on the gravel of the driveway, Liz struck out. Her fist connected with his stubbled jaw. He let out strangled shout and for a second she thought that she had a chance of getting out and away, before his fingers latched onto her wrist. He was stronger than she had expected, his hands hard and unforgiving. She squirmed and swore and kicked out, but he did not release her. He waited for her to tire out, to stop struggling, his hands like iron, and much to Liz's disgust she did, feeling the adrenaline begin to ebb away. She slid, boneless, down in her seat, breathing haggard and fighting off tears. She tiredly levelled her gaze with the barrel of the gun he had pointed at her. She flicked her door open and got out, sullenly walking up to the cottage.
As Liz reflects upon the night, she wonders at how easily she had given up, that if their positions had been reversed, how Red would have responded. She shudders at the thought, knowing that he would have burned the world down and most likely himself to find her. She wonders if, subconsciously, she'd known that he'd come back to her, that he always had welcomed or not. He was an unstoppable force of nature, barely human. Fierce, powerful, a Sin Eater. She glances back to him and he is facing her now, his gaze unwavering, eyes green and striking.
"Just get some sleep, Red," she sighs and there must have been something he notices in her tone, perhaps how broken she felt, how she needs assurance like the night before, because he hesitantly lies down. He places his head in her lap and stares up at her. Liz feels her entire body still as he coaxes her down to lie beside him. It's tight and there is little room to move and his body is pressed against her, but she eventually relaxes into him. She grips the fabric of his shirt in her hands, making sure he is secure in the precarious position he has put himself in. She presses her forehead to his chest feeling it rise and fall with his calming breaths. His heartbeat is steady under her fingers.
She doesn't dare fall asleep, though her eyes are closed. She feels when his body finally gives way to the exhaustion that is tugging at him. The light grip of his hand on her waist slackens, sliding off her body to rest between them. His breathing has become deeper, slower and his legs give the occasional twitch. She opens her eyes, his face inches from hers, his breaths puffing over her face. This isn't the first time she has watched Red sleep. When he'd come to her in the middle of the night while they were abroad the Seven Seas she'd watched him then, too. It is interesting, the way in sleep he looks so at peace, his lips parted and mouth slightly ajar. He snuffles and mumbles like any other person, eyes flickering beneath lids while he dreams. Liz looks at him and realises that Raymond Reddington, though twisted and dark, powerful and murderous, is just as human as her. It is a terrifying discover.
"Lizzie, it's rude to stare," he mumbles, a small smile flickering over his lips as she jolts slightly. Perhaps he isn't that human.
They lay that way until the pilot announces that they will be landing soon, whispering nonsense to each other. Red murmurs his usually loud anecdotes quietly, keeping Lizzie entertained as they fly, her cheeks beginning to tire from smiling and giggling. His eyes are sparkling with amusement.
They sit up, groggy from the warmth of their bodies. Red, though he got some rest, still looks drained, his shoulders slightly rounded.
"I think you'll like Jane and George, Lizzie, they're good people," Red comments casually as they exit the plane, the car awaiting them idling. A driver steps out to greet them, grabs Liz's luggage from Red and heaves it into the boot as they slip into the backseats.
Liz feels as if all they do is fly and run, which isn't all that surprising if she thinks about it, but it's fuelling her anxiety levels to all new heights. She wants to settle somewhere, for at least a month, find somewhere they can both recuperate. She wonders how long the haven Red has found them will last.
They drive for what feels like hours, first through busy suburbia and along highways until they break through a barrier and the landscape turns to rolling hills, vineyards, paddocks. What Liz presumes was once luscious green grass has turned yellow with the heat of the sun that beats down upon it. She always hears that Australia is hot, but the sheer intensity of the sun as it bakes the landscape is shocking and her pale skin is turning red where she sits. She shifts uncomfortably, leaning closer to Red trying to shade herself.
"It says something about a country when they're bushfire alert system has 'high' as its second level," Red mentions, slightly amused. He mustn't mind the heat all that much, dressed as he is in his suit and tie. It was getting ridiculous; his loyalty to fashion.
"So, what's the highest level then?" Liz asks, "Severe?"
He laughs at that and shakes his head, he returns his gaze to the landscape outside as they pass through a little bustling town. A farmers market is on, pedestrians wandering onto the road taking no notice of the traffic as they walk their dogs or push prams. The driver mumbles something as he comes to a stop, waiting for a family to cross.
"Catastrophic," he eventually replies.
They pass through the town and begin to head into the hills, winding their way up. Liz gasps as she spots some kangaroos lounging in the shade, licking at their wrists and watching as the car glides past.
The driver laughs and says,
"They're cute until they jump out in front of you and right your car off," he states, accent thick, shaking his head and frowning at the animals. Liz can see his foot hovering over the brakes. That must happen often, then.
"How far?" She asks either Red or the driver, waiting to see which would respond.
"About five minutes or so," Red answers, offering her a smile as she sits back into her seat, giving a sigh of relief.
They pull into a driveway, undulated, gravelly and steep. They pass paddocks and sheds as they move down, being jostled around uncomfortably. The house comes into view; it is long and the roof is green, sheltered by towering eucalypts.
The driver pulls the car to a stop, the opening by the house now paved. The house itself is all logs and windows. Hanging pots full of succulents are suspended from the veranda, a stack of firewood piled against one of the walls. Red steps out the car, donning his hat, addressing someone warmly, which has Liz turning quickly to greet their host.
She's a young girl, barefoot and smiling. Her hands are shoved in the pockets of her shorts and she swaggers forwards towards Red. He leans in, kissing her on the cheek. Her blonde hair flows down her back as she bounces back, turning her sharp blues eyes to Lizzie. Her features are soft, smile crooked.
"How's it going?" She greets, watching as the driver passes Liz's luggage to Red, "Need any help with that Red?" she asks, but in a typical teenage fashion, that really seems as if she doesn't want to help but is offering because that's what her parents would want. Red waves her back, so she turns back to Lizzie.
"I'm Mia, you must be Lizzie?" She asks, and while Liz nods her head, she hears Red chime in from behind them.
"Just Liz, Mia."
Liz narrows her eyes at him and tosses an embarrassed smile at Mia, but the girl just nods her head and heads towards the house. From within shrill barking can be heard and then as they round a corner and can see through the door, the little white dog becomes visible.
Mia slides the door open, scooping the ball of fluff into her arms and scolding it for barking. She walks into the house saying over her shoulder,
"Sorry, she gets weird when mum and dad are out."
"Just doing as a dog should, then," Red comments disappearing down a hallway with her luggage. Liz glances around the room. It is in the shape of a hexagon, the walls are windows looking out onto a magnificent view to the south. The dining table, chest and draws are all pine, the floor; sandstone. There is a fireplace and the TV hangs on the wall beside it. The couches are bright red and a piece of art, depicting a desert with deep reds and bright blues, hangs on the wall by the hallway that Red had disappeared down.
"That's an incredible view," Liz comments, walking to stand by the windows to look out. The lawn is green, short. Tibetan prayer flags are attached to the veranda and flow out across the grass and are tied to a tree. A statue of Ganesh is surrounded by agapanthus. The view leads to the vineyards her and Red surely passed during their journey here, and then it stretches out to the ocean.
Mia laughs, putting the dog back onto the ground, its claws clicking on the tiles as it trots over to sniff Liz.
"Yeah, everyone says that. Suppose I've gotten used to it," she replies, sliding on to the table, kicking her legs out in front of her. "Would you like a coffee or something? Pa should be home soon."
Liz politely declines, and she hears Red call that he'd love a scotch if Mia thinks her dad could spare some. The girl snorts and disappears down the hallway. Liz follows after her and turns a corner to find supposedly her own and Red's room. It is nothing special, just two single beds pushed together and a mirror in the corner. She can hear Red chatting with Mia further into the house, and follows his voice.
They're standing by the bar, Mia pulling out a glass and allowing Red to pour himself some Scotch. She shakes her head at them and Mia elbows him in the ribs. They both look at her, expressions chagrined, and Liz finds herself questioning how long these two have known each other. They converse so easily, relaxed in each other's presence.
"So, take it your here to talk to dad?" Mia questions, running her hand through her hair and shifting her weight. Red nods his head, takes a sip of his drink and as he goes to explain, Liz cuts him off.
"Are you still going to school, Mia?" Liz finds herself asking, trying to protect the girl from Red, from his business and perhaps get him to realise that she is just a young girl, that there is no need to involve her. He flickers his gaze over to her and then back to Mia.
"Yeah, in my last year, praise the Lord," she replies, her eyes drifting back over to Red, brow creased slightly. "Think you could bump up my grades, Red? Give me a bit of a helping hand?"
The man in question chuckles, eyes glinting.
"Of course, I built up my entire empire for this purpose. Consider it done, sweetheart," Red replies, his tone teasing.
"Speaking of school, I should probably go do some homework," Mia comments, "can't rely on you for everything, can I, Red?"
She disappears back down the corridor, little dog in her wake. Liz turns to Red, confusion warring with suspicion within her, and grasps the glass of scotch from him. She raises it to her lips, his eyes following her, and takes a gulp of the amber liquid.
"Seems like a nice girl," Liz says, trying to keep the curiosity out of her voice. He presses his hand to the small of her back and guides her to their shared room.
"Very mature for her age, a lot of fun, a bit too smart for her own good," Red supplies, shutting the door behind them. Liz perches herself on the edge of her bed, grinning to herself as his eyes jump over to the mirror to glance at his reflection, he then unconsciously tightens his tie.
"There is something about her, something I can't place," Liz remarks, gauging Red's reaction. He turns to look at her, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "She seems awfully interested in you."
He laughs at her, and she's not sure if he thinks that she's jealous, or that he's amused that the girl has crush on him. He throws back the rest of his scotch before answering.
"I think you may be mistaken, Lizzie," Red replies, "Mia has her eyes set on another prize, one far less dangerous but just as hard to obtain."
Before Liz gets a chance to respond, there is a quiet knock on the door. Red opens it and Mia is standing there, phone in hand.
"Dad just sent me a message, says it's important that I tell you," she says, her tone urgent, "it's about a man."
Liz doesn't miss the way the girl's eyes jump over to her before once again settling on Red. She feels dread coil around her heart.
"It's about Harold Cooper."
Lizzie wonders how many times she'll hear that sentence.
A/N; Thank you for all your lovely comments! The support means so much!
