Lizzie's ordeal is over, but Red's day is getting worse. Can he control himself for her sake? Disclaimed as usual. Please do review and let me know what you think!

When Red returned to the safe house, Mr Kaplan was emerging from the sitting room, Doctor's bag in hand and coat over her arm.

"How is she?" Red said quietly.

Mr Kaplan paused, regarding her employer carefully.

"She's going to be fine" she said, her expression unreadable.

"Kate… did she say…" He took a breath. "Was she…" Mr Kaplan cut him off, her voice gentle but firm.

"Raymond, some time ago you widened my brief to include protecting her. Today she became my patient and I am not going to discuss her condition with anyone but her. Even you."

Red opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Much as it pained him, he knew she was right. Mr Kaplan's expression softened as she walked towards him. She put her hand on his arm as she went to leave.

"Go in and see her. Talk to her. She was asking for you."

Red nodded. "Thank you Kate."

He summoned the strength he had left and entered the sitting room. She was sitting on the couch cradling a cup of tea, and sat up and smiled when she saw him. She looked so much more like herself than the ghostly shadow he had seen in the church. After her smile, the next thing he noticed was her clothes. She was wearing black sweat pants and a shirt, both his. They were enormous on her. She looked beautiful.

She tugged at the shirt with one hand. "I hope you don't mind…Mr Kaplan picked them out for me."

God bless Kate, he thought. "Of course I don't mind – you wear my clothes much better than I do."

She laughed quietly. "No one wears these clothes better than Raymond Reddington."

A ghost of a frown crossed his face. Was she flirting with him? Under any other circumstances this exchange would be one he would treasure. He pursed his lips and sat down in a chair opposite her and clasped his hands together. "Lizzie…" he began, but she interrupted him.

"This is your house, isn't it? Not a safe-house or somewhere borrowed?" Ever the profiler. He was impressed.

"Yes, Lizzie. It's a sanctum of sorts for me. Not a 'safe-house' but I can assure you that you are perfectly safe here. Now…" he said and then paused, unsure of how to begin this most difficult of conversations. "How are you? Are you hurt?" She leant forward and met his anxious gaze.

"Red, I'm fine. Really." He worked his jaw for a moment, unsure whether to push the subject.

"I've been to the warehouse" he said gently.

She nodded and looked at the floor. "I wondered where you were."

He felt a tremendous pang of guilt. It hadn't occurred to him that she would want him to be with her. "It must have been horrendous" he said quietly.

"Not the best date I've had" she quipped. Red was beginning to find her humour unnerving.

"Lizzie" he said, more sharply than he'd intended.

She put the mug down on the coffee table and looked him squarely in the eye. "Yes, it was horrendous. But I got away. I'm alright." Her tone was soothing, he thought, as though she was reassuring him. He realised she was trying to be brave for him. That wasn't right. He should be looking after her. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling helpless. Not for the first time in the last 24 hours he was reminded that it had been him who put Tom Keen into her life, to protect her of all things. He couldn't forgive himself. And he had to know.

"The bed." He said bleakly. "Did he…"

"No!" she cut him off, sounding emotional for the first time. "No Red. He…tried, but…no. I got away." she finished quietly, not meeting his eye.

Despite her obvious discomfort at his mention of the topic, the relief that washed over Red at that moment was indescribable. Relief and pride. He wanted to stride across the room and kiss her, but that would have been unthinkable. Instead he settled for allowing a small smile to cross his lips, and for telling her he thought she was remarkable. The blush that crept into her cheeks when he said that was adorable. But that was to be the last moment of comfort he would feel that evening.

"If you saw the place then you know he was trying… he was just trying to recreate our marriage" she said suddenly.

"That's not all I saw, Lizzie" Red said softly. "He hurt you."

She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, wincing in pain from where she had been slammed to the floor, and rubbed the scar on her palm unconsciously. It didn't go unnoticed by Red.

"At first I tried to go along with it. To placate him. But he was just so angry." She swallowed back tears as she spoke, still unable to meet his eye. "He thought…" she was blushing furiously now and Red finished for her.

"He believed that our relationship had become intimate" he said gently.

Liz took a deep breath. "Yes. He told me he called you."

"He did. It was not a pleasant conversation" he said tightly. "But one thing I don't understand is how he came to believe that we - "

"He saw us. At the motel."

Red's face clouded and he closed his eyes for a second, the implications of her statement creeping over him. He had indulged himself that evening and once again his feelings for her had endangered her. "I'm so sorry Lizzie. You can't begin to fathom how sorry I am." He fought the urge to say more. To say he was sorry for putting Tom in her life, sorry for failing to protect her, sorry for loving her and everything that went with that.

Liz shook her head. "We were married. It was between us and it was up to me to finish it" she said slowly.

Red's skin prickled. "Lizzie, where is Tom?" There had been no body at the warehouse, he thought. Blood, but no body and no shell casings.

"I don't know" she whispered, staring down at her hands.

"Look at me please. Tell me how you escaped."

She turned her eyes towards him with effort and began to speak. She recounted their fight, glossing over what Tom had said about her and Red. She'd grabbed his gun. And then she ran.

Red's eyes narrowed as he listened, the uneasy feeling in his stomach deepening. If she had killed Tom he would have known how to help her. But this was different. He attempted to keep an even tone. "If I understand correctly, you had a shot but didn't take it."

Liz nodded, staring back at her hands. "I know after everything maybe I should have done…but I couldn't. You know I couldn't. He never had anything real, Red. Anyone to love him – the real him, I mean. D'you know he told me he wanted us to have a child so that he could do something good. Leave something good behind. Give them a better life than his parents gave him. It was heart-breaking."

As she spoke, Red felt cold, blind rage growing inside him. To hear her sympathy for the man who had abducted her with the intention of raping her was too much to bear. To hear that she had once again spared his life. "On the contrary. It seems Tom is fortunate indeed if he has managed to secure your compassion after what he's done" he said, his tone dangerously quiet.

Liz drew her arms about herself, as if shrinking away from his coldness. "I'm not saying I forgive him" she said, defensively. "I just… I understand. The life he's had – he never had a chance. Last night… what he really wanted, however twisted, was just to be loved. Everyone deserves a chance at that."

Red stood abruptly, his mind swirling in anger. "All Tom Keen deserves is a shallow grave" he hissed. He saw her eyes widen and immediately regretted his inability to keep his thoughts to himself. She needed to talk, and he should have let her, even if every word out of her mouth was like a dagger in his heart.

"Red no" she whispered, panic creeping into her voice. She hadn't thought about what Red might do before now. She'd almost forgotten how dangerous he was. "Don't! Please don't!" He turned away from her and stalked to the counter, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch. His fingers squeezed the glass so tightly the blood drained from them.

"Red!" He turned as he felt her hand on his arm, and looked into her eyes, wide and pleading. When she spoke again her voice was shaky. "Please… he told me you offered him a way out. A new identity. I…. I know it's too much to ask…"

"And yet you are asking nonetheless" he said, drawing away from her, his voice like ice.

Her breathing quickened, tempered with the effort to control her sobs. "If he could just leave the country…I'd never have to see him again and he could start over" she finished quietly.

Red studied her tearful face for a moment. Despite everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, it was apparently he who had brought her to tears. Yet again. All he had ever tried to do was protect her, and she had rejected him, railed at him, vowed never to forgive him so many times. But Tom Keen, that revolting parasite tries to hurt her in the worst way and she's suddenly filled with understanding and compassion. Worse, she's pleading with him to spare Tom's life, as though he were the monster here. He had always felt jealousy to be a base emotion, and yet, he realised, that was what he was feeling. And to feel it under these circumstances was vile, and certainly beneath him. He hated himself for it.

Taking a deep breath he walked to her slowly and took her in his arms as she wept, shushing her. He told her it was ok. That she didn't have to worry. He told her how good and sweet she was. She wrapped her slender arms around him, and he kissed her forehead, careful to avoid the bruise darkening across her face. When she had quieted, he released her and spoke softly.

"Lizzie you must be exhausted. It's time to go to bed. You'll stay here for as long as you like – this can be your sanctum too. And if at any time you want to leave, we'll find you a new place." He saw her stiffen a little and raised his hands in a conciliatory fashion. "I promise I won't interfere unless you ask me to. You choose the place. But no more motel rooms, Lizzie."

She nodded and smiled weakly. "Thank you Red" she said, and kissed him on the cheek before making her way towards the sitting room door. As her hand closed on the door knob she turned back to him. "Red?"

"Yes Lizzie?" Red braced himself for more protestations, for questions he couldn't – wouldn't – answer.

"Will you come and sit with me?" she said hesitantly.

He paused, not quite understanding, and not certain that it was wise to spend more time around her tonight in his current state of mind.

When he didn't answer immediately, she lowered her eyes. "Don't worry it's fine, I'm fine I…" she looked at him again through thick, dark lashes. "Just until I fall asleep" she whispered.

He nodded, painful understanding dawning on him. She was frightened and didn't want to be alone. He couldn't let his own petty emotions get in the way of him doing whatever he could for her.

"Of course Lizzie. I'll stay as long as you need. I'll be there in a minute."

"Thank you." She smiled gratefully and closed the door behind her. She didn't hear the sharp intake of breath as the tumbler cracked in his hand.

A few minutes later he knocked quietly on her bedroom door, his hand bandaged. He half hoped that perhaps she was already asleep. Or had changed her mind. But she responded clearly from inside.

"Come in Red."

He entered and saw her sitting up in bed, her knees drawn up to her chest. The bed was large and she looked diminutive propped up in the middle of the pillows. He fleetingly imagined what it would be like to climb in with her, to lie next to her warmth, just to hold her, and chased the thought away and quickly as he could

"You still want me to stay?" he said quietly.

"Please… you don't have to stay long. I'm so tired I'm sure I'll be asleep soon."

"I'll be here as long as you need me" he said, settling in an armchair not too far from the bed.

"Thank you. Goodnight Red." She smiled, before slipping down the bed and closing her eyes.

"Sleep well, Lizzie" he said, softly. He watched her carefully - the way her hair fell across the pillow, the rise and fall of the blanket with each breath. She was still wearing his shirt.

He had brought a book, which he opened; he didn't want her to feel he was staring at her. The words danced in front of him on the page - it was a prop, really. He couldn't read. He couldn't think. After a while, her breathing evened. He was sure she was asleep. He turned back to the book, the story just as elusive has it had been. He must have drifted off in the chair because he was startled some time later by a cry from the bed. He rose from the chair and approached her, realising that she was having a nightmare.

"No…Tom please…don't"

Red's fingers curled into a fist, digging his nails through the bandage into the cut on his hand in an attempt to channel his anger. He took a breath and sat beside her, reaching out to her with his other hand and gently stroking her hair.

"Ssshh Lizzie, you're ok. Everything's going to be ok."

She quieted at the sound of his voice, and after a while he returned to his chair where he kept watch over her till morning, his hatred of Tom Keen growing darker and more visceral with the passing of every hour. By daybreak, he had reached a decision.

TBC