A/N: Ok, so there's more angst to come. I am really not happy with this chapter, but I've tried making changes and it just makes things messier,lol.(If that even made sense) Things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better. They WILL get better though. Maybe not soon, though.

Chapter 13

Dembe held Liz against her will for exactly thirty two hours.

After that, Liz had no more energy to fight and escape. It was if her entire world had crashed around her. She wasn't thinking rationally.

Red either didn't want her and was using this as an excuse to make a clean getaway, or he cared so much that he was going to face their enemies alone. She knew it was the latter, but this kernel of doubt was still inside of her. He left so soon after making love to her that she couldn't help but think he changed his mind, that he didn't really want her.

Either way, she still hurt, badly. Her chest still felt like a ticking time bomb, every painful palpitation brought her one step closer to an explosion.

Her voice was non-existent still. She refused to eat or drink. Dembe was pissed at her for 'acting like a child', but she was heartsick and felt she was allowed time to just hate the world for a while. She would just vomit everything back up. The very thought of moving made her nauseous, let alone consuming anything.

So she sat and stared out a window. She didn't really see anything though.

"Elizabeth, I have something for you to drink. It will help your throat feel better." He tried to hand it to her, but she just looked into his eyes blankly.

"I am going to force this down your throat if you don't take it from me." Dembe was angry. He'd never spoken to her like that before. She knew he wasn't really mad at her. He was mad at Red for taking his control away and leaving him here with her.

She finally took the cup away from him, sipping the hot chocolate with relish.

"Dembe, if I told you that I would stay here and behave, would you go to him and protect him? Even if he thinks that I am nothing more than a hindrance, I need to know that he is protected. Will you do that for me? Will you go to him and make sure he's safe?" Her voice was a squeaky, broken mess, but she is pretty sure that he understood every word.

He had tears in his eyes as he answered "I made a promise to Raymond that I would stay with you and protect you for however long it was needed. If he doesn't….if he doesn't return, then I will stay with you for your entire FBI career."

She stared in shock and horror "Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? What am I supposed to do with a personal body guard, Dembe? That is ridiculous. If I'm your boss now, then I am firing you. My only wish is for you to keep him safe. If you can't do that, then you're of no use to me. Go!"

She cried then, but silently, her tears burning trails down her face.

Dembe held her then, but she didn't struggle against him, just froze. "Elizabeth, I have a number that I am to call in another 15 hours. After that, I will know if I am to take you to him or to your new home."

Her mouth gaped open in horror. In 15 hours, she would know if Red was alive.

She wouldn't have to, she realized, as a sharp pain in her neck penetrated her awareness and everything went black.

She woke up to a splitting headache and nausea like nothing she'd ever experienced.

She hoped her legs worked, or there was going to be vomit all over the floor. Thanked her lucky stars that she only stumbled a few times before she finally collapsed next to the toilet and dry-heaved for the next ten minutes.

She heard Dembe coming up behind her "If you come near me, I'm going to kill you."

Dembe chuckled, "I would like to apologize, but I had no idea you'd react like that to the anesthesia. You frightened me with your responses, so I figured it would be to your benefit to not have to endure the wait."

Oh god, Red. "Dembe, have you heard?"

His face was grim and his voice even more so "We must leave. He's at a private hospital in France. I know no more than that."

Red was hurt, maybe dying and she needed to move her ass to see him, to make sure he was getting proper care, to smack him and tell him how much she hated him…how much she loved him.

"Dembe, I can't get up. I'll eat an energy bar, a glass of water and then we can go."

He helped her up and she washed her hands and rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash she located in the medicine cabinet.

She stumbled, still disoriented from the drugs. Dembe just scooped her up and deposited her on the sofa with a "Stay here, I'll pack everything away."

He stopped to throw her snacks and a drink. Five minutes later they were driving down the driveway.

They flew into France, Liz wearing a wig and Dembe wearing a flamboyant purple suit. They were traveling as husband and wife, dancers, from Canada.

Dembe had worked tirelessly, made countless calls, bribed, and even threatened to find the name of the hospital where Red was.

Wherever he was, he had succeeded in his primary objective. The Director was dead. He died of a heart attack at home, the press was saying. Here in France, The Director was just a wealthy businessman and philanthropist. His real power had been in the states.

Liz couldn't even find it in herself to feel relief that one of her problems may be solved, because nothing was worth losing Red, nothing.

They finally reached the hospital and Dembe spoke with Red's charge nurse. Liz couldn't understand much of what was said, but she could tell by the look on Dembe's face that something was very wrong. "What?! Dembe, tell me!"

She didn't care that she was breaking character. She didn't care that anyone could be watching them.

Dembe stepped up to her, a tear running down his face. His voice was hoarse, as if the words had to be forced "He'd gone, Liz. He's dead."

He barely had a chance to catch her before she hit the floor.

A/N: Let me know what you think!