Liz is curled up on the couch trying to watch the film Mia has playing on the TV, trying not to listen to the muted tones of Red and Mia's father, George, in the kitchen. She grips her legs so tightly that angry crescent moons mar her skin. The girl keeps glancing over at her, concern etched into her young features.

At first Liz had wanted to be involved in whatever it was Red and George were discussing about Cooper, but Red had stood firm, told her to not get involved. Rage had split within her, and she'd snarled that she already was involved, but as the argument dragged on, Red seemed to become more desperate, imploring. Liz was able to sense when he was trying to protect her, from not only others, but herself. Mia had stepped into the room then, gently grabbing Liz's arm and tugging her away.

So now she stared bleary eyed into vacant space, trying to rid herself of ideas that came from the unknown. Hoping that he'd deign to tell her some details, that he'd do just enough to prevent her from falling to pieces once more. Liz's bones ached with exhaustion.

"How much do you know?" Liz asks, her voice hoarse. Mia snaps her attention away from her phone and back onto Liz, her eyes darting over to the kitchen, Red's voice rising slightly.

"Enough to know what Red is, enough to know that this bloke, Cooper, he's in a world of trouble. I just don't know if Red is going to kill him, or save him," her tone is soft, calm, but her eyes return back to the kitchen.

"He won't hurt you," Liz tries to reassure her, because she seems edgy and nervous, as if Red's presences is unsettling her, threatening to stop her from divulging what she knows.

Mia laughs at that, loudly, and the kitchen falls quiet briefly. She turns back to face Liz and she's grinning. She looks as if she has never feared Red, never had any reason and wouldn't ever start to.

"Course he wouldn't, he's Red," she states as if that should make perfect sense to Liz, and it would, if Liz had been the one to say it, but she hadn't. This girl gave Red her unwavering loyalty and Liz wanted to know why.

"What is he to you?" Liz whispers, coming to sit on the couch Mia occupies. "He seems a little old for you, if I'm honest."

The girl's eyes darken at that. She stares at the cold and unlit fireplace, chewing on her lip, clenching and unclenching her left hand. Liz has struck a nerve.

"Age means shit," she replies and she believes it, there is so much conviction in her voice, "if you care about someone, their age shouldn't matter, it's about who they are. I'm not interested in Red, if that's what you're worried about. I've known him since I was eight and though I barely ever see him I know he's always there. He's helped raise me, I feel, looked after me and understood me like no one else. If it's his age that's holding you back, don't let it, that's bullshit for him and yourself."

And with a reassuring smile, as if to let Liz know that she wasn't angry at her, but at the world, she gets up and strides into the kitchen. The murmuring stops and Liz can hear Mia huff out an arrogant laugh, before walking back into the living room, a cup of yoghurt in hand. She sits back down next to Liz and returns her attention back to the television.

They sit like that, occasionally murmuring to each other, until Red and George emerge from the kitchen. They both look exhausted, George's black ponytail is coming loose, and Red walks as if he is sore, ginger.

George is a bear of a man, his skin is tanned and tough, his hair black and thick. He has a round face, like his daughter, but his features are sharper, more prominent. Both men collapse onto the couch, silent. Liz tries to get Red's attention, but he pointedly watches the TV.

Mia's mother, Jane, is away currently, in Brisbane visiting family, so Liz helps her make pasta for dinner. It's quick and easy and guessing from Mia's enthusiastic approach, it's her favourite meal. They all sit on the couches together and eat, chatting quietly, all trying to ignore the underlying tension and apprehension.

Eventually George bids them goodnight and Mia soon follows, walking past the kitchen and into her own room.

It's just her and Red now.

"What's the plan?" she asks and her voice is a bit too strained. He notices and leans over to grasp her hand. His own are dry and warm. His thumb caresses her knuckles.

"We're going to break him out," Red replies eventually. His voice is gravelly and stare, intense. She pulls her hand away from him and he sighs, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling, something he only does when he is deep in thought.

"Why would you do that? That will confirm his guilt if he runs, there will be no way of clearing his name!" She hisses at him, standing to pace. His eyes track her across the room, before he stands and moves to the kitchen. She waits for him to return and when he does he is holding an envelope. He taps it against his leg, looking apprehensive.

"It won't be a breakout, Lizzie, it will be a rescue," he murmurs, extending the envelope out to her. She takes it hesitantly, slipping her thumb under the flap and exposing the photographs within. She feels Red step closer, hovering beside her.

When Lizzie sees the first image, a voice in the back of her mind tells her that she shouldn't be surprised, but that doesn't prevent the horror from consuming her. She stumbles backwards slightly before Red's hand rests between her shoulder blades.

The images are of surveillance footage of Harold Cooper. He's strung up by his wrists, the harsh wire they have used slicing into his skin. His clothing is torn and bloodied. Through the tears in the fabric, his malnourished body is visible, ribs looking as if they were about to split the skin. His face is almost unrecognisable, purpled and swollen.

Liz feels as if she is about to vomit. She allows Red to guide her over to the couch on shaky legs. He sits and she all but collapses next to him. She flicks through the rest of the photographs, the first just as horrifying as the rest. Harold Cooper is being maliciously tortured because of her. Murderer.

She flinches as Red grasps her by the shoulder, but he doesn't pull away. He's talking to her softly, saying her name, leaning in closer. He needs her attention, so he delicately grasps her chin and turns her to face him. She can feel hot tears gliding down her cheeks.

"We're going to get him back, Lizzie. I've already put plans in place. Harold and his family will be safely out of America and into hiding in the next few days," he says, trying to console her, to ease her rapid breaths and tears. She can feel his grip tighten on her shoulder.

"It's a trap, Red, surely you can see that?" She whispers, meeting his gaze. He doesn't have to answer; his gaze shows that he is aware of that fact. His jaw is clenched, he is resolute. He'll get Cooper back, for no one else but Liz.

"You'd burn the world to keep me happy," she states. A sad smile creeps over his face and he presses his lips to her forehead, lingering. He sighs.

"You make me sound so dramatic, Lizzie," he says in reply, deflecting once more, but she knows it's true. He's shown his hand too many times already. "And do try for some humility; Harold is a dear friend of mine."

That elicits a smirk from her, and she follows him as he stands and heads towards their bedroom. Her limbs feel heavy and she still clasps the photographs, crumpled now, in her hands. Red politely turns his back as she changes, fingers fumbling at the button of her jeans. She slips into bed, and rolls onto her side. Red raises an eyebrow at her, shedding his jacket, vest and suit pants. He still strikes an imposing figure as he crawls into his own bed, in his dress shirt and briefs.

"I know that you think it's best if you don't keep me up to date about Cooper," she begins, waiting from him to look at her. "But, please let me know when you get him out, when you get him safe."

He rolls over, smile soft and nods his head. His eyes are kind, even in the dark she can see the way they dart over her face. Liz feels her eyes slide shut, still feeling sick. The images of Cooper are burned into her retinas. She falls into a restless sleep, Red watching over her.

When she wakes in the morning, she can hear Mia and Red talking in the next room. She rolls over sleepily, reaching for the clothes she'd left on the floor the previous night. She ignores the envelope and its contents. She pads down the hallway and sees them sitting around the dining table, nursing cups of tea.

"Morning," Mia greets, "feel free to grab anything from the kitchen, or get Red to grab you something. I'm not the best host."

Liz smiles and makes her way into the kitchen. There are crumbs on the bread board surrounded by butter and jam and other such spreads. She gets herself some toast and heads back over to Red, sitting in the chair next to him.

"Shouldn't you be at school, Mia?" Liz inquires, munching on her toast and glancing over to Red. He has already showered. He looks refreshed and alert, beige suit tailored perfectly.

"Nah, this seems a lot more entertaining than school," she replies, to which Red chuckles and shakes his head. "Red was asking if he could borrow my car, sounds like he's got some plans for the day."

Liz, presuming that those plans include her, turns to him questioningly. He offers her no answers as he sips his tea, but his eyes glint mischievously. She shakes her head at him and focuses on finishing her toast and then goes to get dressed.

She slips on a pair of jeans and a loose fitting shirt, material thin, as she can already feel the heat of the day seeping through the walls. Her eyes are drawn to the rumpled envelope on the floor, its contents threatening to spill onto the soft blue carpet. With a shuddering breath she picks it up, willing herself to not look inside and to deliver them back to Red.

"Here," his soft voice rumbles. He is leaning against the doorframe, arm extended and palm upwards as he waits for her to move over to him. She does so, slowly, because she fears if she moves too fast the feeling of despair will overcome her. He takes them from her gently, eyes locked on to hers as he slips them into his jacket pocket. She breathes through parted lips, chest aching.

He slips his arm into hers and leads her back out into the living room. Mia tosses her car keys to Red, proclaiming that she should attempt to get some homework done, before disappearing into her room. Red and Liz bid her goodbye, heading out to the car.

"Think you can handle driving on the wrong side of the road?" she attempts to tease, but her voice is a bit too hoarse for the effect to come across. He turns to her anyway, with such a look of mock-offense that she can't help but laugh.

They slide into the car and as Liz picks up the AUX cord and plugs her phone in Red shifts uncomfortably in his seat. She looks up at him, frowning. He opens his mouth, rolls his tongue over his lips as he searches for something to say.

"What?" she asks and is answered with a defeated sigh.

"There are no keys," he admits, rubbing a hand over his face to hide his embarrassed smile, "I don't know how to turn it on."

Liz chuckles at him, leaning over the gear stick, handbrake and, in turn, Red's lap. He shifts again, clearing his throat as she instructs him, using her hand for balance on his knee.

"Put your foot on the brake; it's a touch start, Red."

Liz pushes down on the button and the car spurts to life. She leans back from him and he thanks her, voice breaking slightly. She laughs at his ignorance, teasing him by wondering aloud how he manages to survive without Dembe. He snorts at that, steering the car up the steep and gravelly drive way.

They wind through the hills, dropping into little towns and getting coffees and gourmet snacks. Red talks and talks about the towns and their history, leaving Liz in awe of his knowledge of such trivial things. She soon comes to the realisation that Red never had a specific destination in mind; he was just driving to keep her distracted. She sinks back into her seat, small smile in place as she watches out of the window. Red has fallen silent, so she turns to look at him, to find that his green eyes have settled on her. They quickly jump back to the road, and although Liz's stomach flipped at the sight, she must agree that it's a better idea that he keeps his eyes on the road.

They eventually, after traversing the country side and roaring down dirt roads, leaving a trail of dust behind them, arrive at a small secluded beach. Cliffs rise above them on either side, and the only sound is the soft crash of waves and the squawks of seagulls. Red gets out of the car first, donning his fedora as he looks out to the ocean, breathing deeply.

"It's beautiful," Liz breathes, walking up to stand by his side. He turns to look at her, expression soft.

"Yes, it is."

He sets off towards the beach, getting to the sand dunes and taking of his shoes. Liz follows suit, sighing as the cool sand sinks beneath her toes. She wanders down to the water's edge as Red makes his way further down the shore. It's cool and Liz's skin practically sings at the contact, red and hot as it was from the Australian sun. She turns to see Red with his back towards her. She quickly strips off her jeans and shirt, leaving herself in her underwear. She hurries into the water, delighting in it. She can taste the salt on her tongue, feel it tangling through her blonde hair. She lies on her back and just breathes, she feels as if she hasn't since they left America.

Her eyes drift back to shore and Red is standing by the water's edge, suit pants rolled up and the waves flowing over his ankles. She wades her way back to him, keeping her body submerged, not that it would matter all that much after Fiji.

"Though this is a slight improvement, sweetheart, do you think we'll one day be able to go to the beach and you'll remain fully clothed?" he asks and though he is obviously teasing, she still feels the sting of an insult. She tries to smile at him, but it must have come out more of a wince, judging by the way his brow creases.

He sheds his jacket and offers it to her, but she ignores it, stalking forwards to her pile of abandoned clothes.

"I'm not nude, Red, and I do have my own clothes," she snaps, bristling as the beads of water roll down her skin, making her itch. He steps up beside her, still offering his jacket.

"You're soaked through, Elizabeth, and your clothes are sandy. We have a long drive home, you may as well be comfortable," he encourages her, and though she's still slightly irked by his comment, she grabs the beige jacket and shrugs it on. He smiles brightly at her, his eyes imperceptibly gliding down her body and over her bare legs.

What do you want, Agent Keen? What do you really want?

She swallows and meets his gaze, hearting beat just a little too fast for it to be comfortable. She steps towards him, and he looks down at her, smirking slightly.

The burner phone Mia had given him earlier that morning rings, obnoxiously loud, in his pocket. Liz leans back from him as he slides his hand into his pocket and answers. His eyes are still locked on to hers, and she knows as he looks at her that it's done. He thanks the contact on the phone, breathing out heavily before saying,

"They got him out. They're all out and safe."

A/N; Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a review!