A/N; Trigger Warning; Suicidal Thoughts.

It is incredibly humid and Lizzie's hair forms magnificent curls because of it. Red finds himself throughout their stay, unconsciously, twirling them between his fingers as he speaks to her. She doesn't seem to mind, especially now, eyes drawn to the scenery around them, navigating her way through the bumbling tourists.

He marvels at how at ease she looks among the masses; sunglasses on and travel-bag slung over her shoulder. Red is sure that she has a weapon tucked away somewhere on her body, her clothing as loose and flowing as it is. He laughs quietly at the thought and her gaze flickers over to him, a question dancing in those bright blue eyes. He can only smile back, reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

They left Bali a few days after their revelations, confessions, Red wanting to drag Lizzie across the globe with him. He wants her to experience everything that she can, experience everything he had enjoyed in his travels; wants to know how her hair smells after she swims in the waters of Bora Bora, how she tastes after an authentic Mango Lassi in India, watch her skin glow under the rays of the Spanish sun. He wants everything for her.

For now, they had started with walking the Wall and it truly is an incredible experience; the sheer magnitude of the structure is difficult to comprehend. The ancient history is carved into the very stones they stand upon, even as they are worn away by the practical shoes of tourists.

Red catches the eye of one the many men that form their security detail. He nods at him solemnly, his eyes jumping away immediately and alighting on another. They were moving slowly with Red and Lizzie, dressed as the typical tourist; cameras hung about their necks and their satchels and bum-bags screamed tourist, but perhaps not the weapons concealed within them. Their eyes were trained on Red and Lizzie, occasionally flicking away to scan their surroundings. Red had not wanted to take any chances.

"Have you got any plans for tonight, Red?" Lizzie asks, bringing his attention back to her. She comes to a stop and starts fossicking through her bag, before producing a pamphlet and scanning over the text, eyes jumping back to the landscape before them. When her gaze returns to him, he shakes his head and indicates that they should keep moving, as the crowd filters around them.

As they move forward he catches the eye of a young man, around Lizzie's age. He is leaning against the side of the wall, his posture one of forced casualness, left hand lightly resting on his hip. His eyes are wide, expression startled as he stares back at Reddington.

Red's heart jumps into his throat as his phone rings in his pocket, and snapping his gaze away from the stranger, he answers it. Coming to a sharp stop and latching onto Lizzie's wrist as Aram shouts down the line,

"You need to get out! Agent Ressler is there, he knows where you are! You need to get out!"

Lizzie's stance changes immediately as Red tugs her into the opposite direction, dropping the phone and seeing out the peripheral of his vision the undercover agent moving after them. The security detail Red had organised realises something is wrong immediately, and they flock to surround Red and Lizzie as they force their way through the hustle of the crowds.

Shouts erupt around them as members in the crowd break free, revealing themselves to be FBI, weapons drawn. Lizzie breaks into a run, dragging Red with her as he pulls his own weapon from the waistband of his trousers.

"How did they find us?" Lizzie shouts. She is breathless as she runs, throwing the bag she had slung over her shoulder to the ground. Red doesn't respond, he doesn't know. He chases after her, grip slick on his gun. She pulls her own weapon from the holster strapped around her ribcage.

The crowd seems to break before them and Lizzie skids to a stop, raising her gun to mirror Donald Ressler. He stands metres from them, gun drawn and posture rigid. As Red stares at him, he can see the deep crevices of frown lines wrinkling Ressler's brow, the greying hair at his temples. He looks thinner, less muscular and heavily leans on his right leg. He looks old.

"Put the gun down, Keen," Ressler orders, his voice gruff, "You're not getting out of this."

Red is pleased to see the hold that Lizzie has on her gun does not waver. Her eyes do, however; desperation draping over them like a smothering blanket. He takes a cautious step towards her, noticing the heat creeping up her cheeks, the minute tremble of her lower lip. She has not looked away from Ressler

"Come with us, Keen. If you're innocent, let us prove it."

"If I put my weapon down, you'll let Red go," She requests, voice firm, stance shifting slightly. Ressler's eyes flicker between them. They were surrounded, Red's security detail apprehended, handcuffed already. They weren't getting out.

"I won't be leaving you, Elizabeth," Red growls, waiting for her to look over to him, wanting to make sure that she'll remain reasonable. Her hands are trembling now. She glances over at him when he speaks, eyes filled with unshed tears. Her jaw is locked.

"Turn around, Red," she orders, her tone cold and flat. Red doesn't move, he remains rooted to the spot. Terror is clawing its way up his spine as he feels himself losing control of the situation, unable to stop the ideas whirling through Lizzie's mind.

"Why?" He croaks, ignoring Ressler for the moment, focused only on Lizzie and the way her eyes are darting around the scene. He slowly leans down and places his weapon on the ground, kicks it towards an agent.

"Because you won't want to see this," she snarls in reply, before returning her attention to Ressler, "If I come with you, you have to let him go."

"You know I won't let that happen, Keen," Ressler states, and it seems as if he has picked up on the wavering control Lizzie has on her emotions, his tone placating.

Lizzie, with shaking hands, raises the barrel of the gun and levels it with her temple. The world shutters to a stop around Red; all sounds are muted, his vision tunnels onto her trembling form. Her breaths are rushing out of her in short bursts, eyes red-rimmed and full of desperation. He takes an unsteady step towards her, but she flinches back from him, movements jagged and animalistic.

Ressler has lowered his weapon, fear bleeding into his eyes before they jump to Red's. The agents around them are sharing unnerved glances, because Lizzie, for all the blame and accusations upon her, is still loved.

"Lizzie," Red says, he tries to sound strong, affirmative, but his voice is weakened by the sight before him. She turns her icy blues eyes onto him, shaking her head furiously. Red steels himself, though his heart is thundering in his chest, his veins are throbbing with adrenaline, he needs to appear calm.

"They're not going to call your bluff, sweetheart," he says softly, taking a step towards her. She doesn't flinch back, but she presses the barrel firmly against her temple. Red stills immediately.

"I'm not bluffing, Red!" She shouts at him angrily, baring her teeth as she looks back at Ressler. She is so wild; hackles raised now that she is threatened.

"You're bluffing, Lizzie," he murmurs, taking another step forward and reaching out for her wrist, "they know, and so do you, that if you pull that trigger..."

And his voice catches, because the thought is so terrifying, and Red can't bear it. Something softens on her face; the barrel lowers ever so slightly and it suddenly becomes easier to breathe.

"They know that if you pull that trigger, Lizzie, I'll just follow you."

She stops, paling at his words, eyes wide as she stares at him. Her lips part and she lowers her arm entirely. Red moves forward, clutches her arm and waits for Ressler to pounce, for the handcuffs to shackle around their wrists, but no one moves.

He snaps his head up and Ressler looks in a daze as he stares at them, Lizzie's form curled into Red's as she sobs. His eyes sharpen immediately when he senses Red's gaze and he raises his weapon, barking orders at his men as they advance forward. One of them latches onto Red's shoulder, tugging him away from Lizzie's embrace.

The gunshot is loud, devastating, as it rips through the agent's chest, spattering Red, Lizzie and the surrounding men in thick clots of blood. Screams of terror ring out amongst the remaining tourists as they disperse like a stampede. Donald begins shouting at his men as another shot cleaves through an agent. Bodies begin to drop around them and Red tries to tuck Lizzie further into him, tries to shield her from the onslaught.

Red's men are yelling, trying to frisk the agents' dead bodies, looking for keys to their handcuffs, their weapons. When one of them manages to free themselves, and they stand, they fall immediately, a bullet blown through their skull.

"We need to get away," Red shouts over the sound of gunfire, tugging Lizzie along the ground with him, "It has to be the Cabal, Lizzie, and they'll shoot to kill."

The ground explodes by Red's face, gravel imbedding itself in his skin. Lizzie screams and recoils. He tightens his grip on her hand, terror roaring through his veins. The FBI and some of Red's men manage to return fire, but they're running out of time, they're running out of bodies to hide behind.

Ressler is still shouting, is now crouched by the wall, back pressed against it as he scopes the scene. His aim is true; Red can see that much as one of the assailants slumps to the ground. Their eyes meet and then Ressler's flicker away, firing once more.

"Red!" Lizzie screams. Her fingers are digging into his skin, drawing blood. He looks back to her, but her eyes are focussed elsewhere. He follows her gaze to see a man, armed, bearing down on them, gun raised, aiming between Red's eyes.

He breathes deeply, forces Lizzie behind him as he looks up into the eyes of his killer before they slide closed. All he can feel is Lizzie's shaking form behind him, all he can remember is the sweet taste and softness of her skin, the sound of her voice as she whispers to him.

The shot rings out; Red flinches and then curses himself for doing so, for not having the courage to face death as he had always wanted. Lizzie screams, claws her way over his body and Red's eyes snap open.

Two prone forms lay in front of them. One has a bullet buried in their skull; the man who had almost killed Red. The other is on his back, hands pressed to his chest as blood bubbles between his lips, running into his strawberry-coloured hair. He gasps for breath, sky blue eyes boring into Lizzie's as she crouches over him, sobbing.

Donald Ressler's blood seeps out around them, soaking into Lizzie's clothes. He's feebly pushing her away, protests gasping from his mouth; he's telling her to go, to run, Keen. She won't leave him. She flinched as bullets rain around her, but she won't leave him.

"Go with him," Ressler rasps, "He'll keep you safe, Liz."

Red lunges for her, latches onto her forearm and drags her away from Ressler. She's screaming at him, grasping for her partner as he bleeds out in front of them. Red's grip is unyielding and he ignores her desperate protests as they make a dash for cover; the silence eerie when they get inside a building, the gunshots muted.

Lizzie is still pushing against him, frantically attempting to get back to Ressler, but Red drags her down the winding stairs. His breathes are sharp and her sobs loud as they dart down the staircase, bursting through the doors and making it to the parking lot. Red shoots the windows out of the first car he sees. When he spares a glance back up to the top of the Wall figures are still firing their weapons and for now the Cabal seem distracted with the remaining forces of the FBI.

He all but shoves Lizzie into the car, firmly closing the door behind her, before hurriedly moving to the other side. When he slides into the driver's seat, Lizzie, with shaking fingers and breathing heavily, is hotwiring the vehicle. It roars to life and the tyres screech as they pull away, stray bullets sinking into the metal and shattering the back window.

"Look for a phone," he orders, but it's as if Lizzie doesn't hear him, choking down her sobs, "Elizabeth, look for a phone."

She reaches forward and rifles through the glovebox, before producing a tablet, clicking it open and discovering it has battery.

"We need to get somewhere with an internet connection," she whispers quietly, dropping the tablet on her lap and staring out the window. Red glances at her, before pressing his foot to the accelerator.

A/N; Well, this chapter absolutely ran wild. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think! Chapter 21 should be up soon! We're starting to wrap things up! Thank you, once again, for your support!