Hi, here is the final chapter. Thank you so so much for the feedback. further author note at the end.
Naughty or Nice. Chapter 3
The phone rings somewhere in the early hours of the morning. The unexpected hour and the darkness render her immobile for a short time. What's that noise? What day is it? Oh, how many days since Red left? When she moves it's slowly, the motions and alertness of consciousness slowly returning. She lifts the receiver before she's fully awake, desperate to stop the sound that's piercing her peaceful slumber. She can hear crackling, a distant voice repeating her name, "Lizzie? Lizzie sweetheart..." She knows it's Red but she thinks it's a bad line, thinks that's why his voice is faint, why she's having trouble making him out. Then he coughs and it's loud and startling and she realises there is something wrong, something wrong with him, not the line.
"Red, where are you?" She gets out as panic grips at her throat.
"The Philippines Lizzie, surely you haven't forgotten me so quickly" he tells sounding a little disorientated.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"My hostess and I have had a rather dramatic disagreement about our current living arrangements" he says breathlessly before he begins to cough again. It's his feeble attempt to divert her worry with irritation.
"RED!" she almost shouts down the phone before his coughing subsides. "Where is Dembe?" She says trying to help, trying to think what to do when he's so far away.
"I'm about to call him" Red says sounding distant again, confused.
"You hang up and call him Red" she tells him forcefully.
"I will" he responds. "I wanted to talk to you".
"We will talk, we will. But hang up right now and call Dembe" she instructs.
"Okay" he says, and then the line goes dead.
Liz gets up; she packs a bag and leaves. Less than thirty minutes after the call Liz is airport bound in a taxi. Her mind is abuzz; she worries for Red, thinking of her future with him and without him. They've played games with their safety she realises now, and it might have come back to bite them. She send Ressler a quick text, updating him, she tries not to think about how grim it sounds. Then she texts Dembe, lets him know she's inbound – hours away from being there, hours away from useful but he needs to know.
Liz sprints across the airport and books her flight. In the purgatory of departures she switches off her phone. There has been no response from Dembe, but she didn't expect one. There has been a response from Ressler but only to confirm receipt of the information she sent. To him Red's death would be the end of his hunt, the end of the task force but to her it's momentous. Her plane taxis toward the future that is waiting or the nothingness that wishes to swallow her whole.
Hours later as her flight begins to descend she suddenly thinks that Red will be gone before she gets there. Gone in the 'went in to the light' sort of way or gone in the 'regained consciousness and immediately vacated the area' kind of way, like some bloodied and bruised social butterfly who always has somewhere else to be. Liz remembers after Anslo, remembers the metallic smell of blood and the grisly evidence that he'd been there, that he'd been injured but that he hadn't waited for her, hadn't accepted her help.
She left her house; she fled her life, her job, her existence, for him. Yet she wonders if he'll even have stopped. Can't stay more than two nights in the same location, can't wait two hours when your enemies know you're vulnerable. If she's flown half the world on a fancy of her own she might never fly back. But it's done now. She's here; for better or for worse.
When the flight lands Liz doesn't wait for the announcement. Her phone is on before the tyres stop smoking. Instantly there is a text from Dembe, sent many hours earlier telling her she will be collected from the airport. The only luggage she has was carry on so she moves swiftly, clearing customs, her eyes searching until they alight on a familiar face. Dembe is there and for a moment she wonders if that's a good or a bad signs. She stops, the loss she might have suffered, the feelings she has no ownership of, engulf her. Then she's moving again. Dembe has taken her side, leading her firmly by the elbow, she's no longer frozen, no longer petrified. She's moving, searching, seeking again, and it feels like this will always be her lot.
Before she can gather her thoughts, slap herself out of her melancholy stupor, they are in a car, swiftly headed north. Dembe's voice is gentle despite his obvious anxiety, she has to concentrate on his words but her gut clenches when she takes them in, "you're not too late" he tells her, reaching for her hand and grasping it in both of his. "The danger has passed" he says to alleviate her obvious panic.
Was it that close? Had he really been so reckless? Had they both? She can't think. Maybe it's the jetlag and maybe it's the desperate situation they find themselves in. How many minutes between this reality and his death? How many more before she'd have to get over another separation, another loss? Liz tries not to be so self centred, so selfish. It wouldn't just be her loss. He has a wife; an ex wife, a daughter, friends.
The unfamiliar landscape slips by, unseen, unappreciated. The lush forest, the rich exotic smell, the thick warm atmosphere, all passes by unnoticed. In her life there has never been this rush, this drag of time. Can you want to be somewhere with everything you have, while equally wanting to avoid it?
When the car stops she finds herself again guided, dragged, escorted, though unfamiliar surroundings. It's a blur until it promptly stops outside a room. White walls, white door, white noise in her head. Red isn't dead she reminds herself. Somehow he feels omnipotent, like he couldn't die, like he'd outlive them all. Yet he's here. He hasn't fled, he hasn't escaped her. Things must be bad. With that thought she pushes back the door and enters. Her eyes drift around the room, note the monitors, the fluids, the bed, the patient with the distant, relaxed, unconscious expression.
When she looks upon him in his weakened state she suddenly feels like all the worry, the doubt, the anxiety, which has been visited upon her had been valid. What they have is solidified for her in that moment and Red isn't even awake to see.
Then the silence extends. It extends beyond the briefing Dembe gives her, beyond the calls to Ressler, then Cooper. It extends for days after her arrival and days after Red awakens. Only when they are both ready does it end.
"What happened?" Liz asks.
"Let's just say my host didn't take it too well when I insisted on separate quarters" Red tells her moving his shoulder slightly and frowning deeply at the pain.
"I'm sorry" Liz tells him.
"Why?" he asks gazing at her. Yet the shame she carries, her doubt and fears keep her from saying what she wants. And maybe it's the pain, the uncertainty of anaesthesia, but Red is silent then too.
Days pass, days of waiting, days of watching; days of physiotherapy, and briefings and phone calls and normality before either of them wants to say something again. And it's Liz that finally breaks the unnoticed silence that separated them from each other.
"Latin?" she questions.
"Well I didn't want to make it too easy" he says, a small chuckle escaping before he drifts off to sleep.
4 years later.
A plush suite awaits the weary travellers as they depart the private jet, escorted as always by Dembe. Privately they laughed at the secrets they kept. The things they hid them from one another; the fulcrum, the hidden agendas, the doubt and fear.
Is that what a near death experience does for you? Strips away your anguish, your bitterness, you guile? Does it strip away your second guessing, your uncertainty? Does it remove your inability to believe that you're loved, that you are the centre of a certain universe? It does those things, and beyond. Then words take over. Words whispered in the dead of night, skin against skin. Words that were spoken before and are now reiterated; words of wanting and reassurance, of desire and love.
In the end what is there? In the end, they are together; always together, never apart. The end is not today, it's not tomorrow. They stop thinking about the moment the future will find them, following the breadcrumbs of fate. They enjoy the present, being together, living for each other, the conventional and unconventional family that they have surrounded themselves with. Every birthday, every anniversary Liz thinks of the gift she would buy him but never does. The redundant words she'd inscribe; not just tonight, forever.
The End.
a/n thank you to everyone who commented, followed and favourited. just a few lines is a huge boost to any FF author. I've appreciate every word xx xx