A/N Red and Liz deal with the aftermath of his nocturnal attack on her, and receive some disturbing news. Mega, mega angst. You have been warned. I profit nothing from their emotional destruction.

When he came downstairs the next morning she was sitting at the kitchen table, her palms closed around a mug of coffee. He noticed immediately that she was wearing a scarf around her neck – a sweet gesture, no doubt intended to spare him the pain of seeing the marks he had left on her. But it wasn't nearly enough to make him forget what he was. Damaged, and dangerous, like a wounded wild animal she had made the mistake of petting.

Her eyes followed him as he made his way to the counter, gripping it with his fingers until his knuckles turned white, before turning round to face her. He stared at the scarf.

"How bad is it?"

She fiddled unconsciously with the ends of the silk at her neck. "It's fine, really."

"Show me."

"Red-"

"Now. Please Lizzie."

She sighed and turned her eyes away from him as she untied the scarf, revealing deep purple bruises where he had gripped her throat. Red inhaled sharply and ran his hand over his face.

"It looks worse than it is" she said quietly.

He shook his head. "I am so deeply, deeply sorry.

"It wasn't your fault, I understand that." She paused before continuing. "I think you may have PTSD."

He raised his eyebrows and barked a harsh laugh. "Oh, is that the conclusion you've come to?" But then his tone softened. "Of course I have PTSD, Lizzie. You don't do the things I've done, or…experience…the things I have and come out ok on the other end. If you only knew what my life has been."

"Has anything like last night ever happened before?" She said slowly.

"No, not quite like that." His voice was quiet and deep. "I have a high tolerance for alcohol, but despite appearances I generally restrict my intake at least to some extent due to the need to stay reasonably alert. I failed to do so last night." He shook his head. "It's been years since I felt…"

"What?" she said softly.

But it was clear he wasn't going to continue, his mask firmly back in place. He shook his head and walked towards the kitchen door, passing her on the way. He paused and raised his hand gently as if to stroke her cheek, but let it fall to his side again. His green eyes looked haunted. "All you need to know is that it will never happen again, you have my word."

He was at the door when he heard her speak, quietly but clearly.

"I don't want to stop. Us… I don't want us to stop."

His face pale, he turned towards her but her eyes were downcast, fixed on her scar as she rubbed it nervously.

"You don't know what you're asking."

She looked up at him then, struggling to keep eye contact. When confronted with the full power of Raymond Reddington's piercing gaze it was difficult not to tremble.

"I know you" she countered.

"Elizabeth" he said gently "you don't know yourself at the moment, let alone the depths to which you would have to sink to catch a glimpse of what remains of my soul. You've had to endure a great deal. You're understandably extremely vulnerable at the moment and I can only apologise for allowing my own weakness to confuse what has been and will remain my primary objective – keeping you safe."

She looked up at him from under hooded lids. "You've always kept me safe, haven't you?" He didn't respond, only continued his relentless stare, putting her in mind of the King auction, the last time he had categorically shut down her right to care for him. "You saved me from the fire, didn't you?" She persisted. "When I came into your room last night. I saw the scars."

He closed his eyes for a moment. Of course she had seen them. In the midst of everything else it hadn't occurred to him. He hated that he had been so vulnerable. That his vulnerability had made him a threat to her. "A lot happened the night of the fire" he said guardedly. "A lot has happened since then."

"But you've never stopped caring about me. That hasn't changed."

He nodded, his voice so low it was barely audible. "No, that hasn't changed."

She sat back in her chair, still watching him, her lip trembling a little. "I shot Connolly because of you". His stomach knotted as he registered what she had said, but he said nothing, only waited for her to continue. "He told me that he was going to make sure you got the death penalty. Everything was so confusing. The only thing I held on to was that I had to make sure that didn't happen. Cooper was yelling at me not to do it but I did it anyway. Why do you think I did that, Red?" She looked at him, her eyes moist with the sting of tears.

He seemed frozen in place by the door, his brow knitted and eyes glittering.

She looked out of the window for a moment. "I've had a lot of time to think while I've been here" she continued. "I think I did it because I have feelings for you. I have for a while." She took a deep breath and looked back at him. "And now us…here…I'm falling in love with you."

He blinked for a second and swallowed hard, his heart thumping. When he eventually spoke in a gentle tone it was with uncharacteristic brevity. "I'm sure you're feeling many things at the moment Lizzie, but love isn't one of them." He paused. "In time you'll see that."

When it became clear that was the only response he would offer, she turned back to look out of the window, tears running silently down her face.

~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~

Not long afterwards Liz emerged from her room where she had sought sanctuary, drawn out by the sound of Red's voice. He was on the satellite phone in the living room speaking in low tones. She stood at the top of the stairs straining to hear, too afraid to move in case a tell-tale creak of a floorboard gave her away. She remained stock still as his voice floated up the stairs, amplified by the bare wood floors.

"Yes…but we'll need to move sooner than planned….no, no we haven't been compromised….I won't be with her this time…." Liz's stomach clenched in dull knots as she listened. He didn't want to be with her. He was passing her off already. She shouldn't be surprised really – not after their disastrous conversation earlier. She knew she should be embarrassed, behaving like a love-sick teenager. But the truth was she wasn't embarrassed. She was devastated. She knew she shouldn't have expected anything else from him, but that somehow only made it worse. He was so damaged, and now so was she. She always was.

Let him send her away. In that moment none of it seemed to matter – she had no-one left. No parents, no husband, no job, no friends or colleagues, and now Red, the one constant in her life for the past two years, now he had finished with her too. He had almost killed her last night, and now he was finished with her. He hadn't even fucked her in the end. Perhaps she should be grateful for that, she thought bitterly.

A sharp change in the tone of his voice drew her back to the conversation. He sounded anxious and alert. "Are you sure?...Can you trust your source?...I know. Either way it changes things…I won't take that risk…I can for now…Let me know as soon as you have it confirmed."

The conversation came to an abrupt end. When she was sure he was finished, she went downstairs, suddenly not caring that he would know she had been listening. Hell, she wanted him to know. She walked into the living room and folded her arms across her chest. He was sitting on the sofa, the phone still in his hand. His eyes were on the door as she entered, as if he had been expecting her.

"Exactly how much of my conversation did you overhear, Lizzie?" He sounded terse. Perhaps even angry. Good, she thought.

"Enough to know you want to get rid of me. Do it. I don't care anymore."

He made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. "Sit down."

And she did, right next to him on the sofa. She was damned if she was going to make this any less awkward for him. He shifted uncomfortably but didn't comment on her proximity.

She looked at him belligerently. "Come on then. Tell me why you're making me leave." She lowered her voice then until it was almost husky, and slid her hand up his thigh. "I know it isn't because you don't want me."

She had expected that to anger him, but instead he closed his eyes for a moment, a pained expression on his face. "Please Lizzie, I can't." Pleading. Imploring. She didn't stop. She could feel him hardening in his trousers despite what he was saying and it excited her.

He swallowed and took her hand firmly in his, his eyes burning. "It isn't because I don't want you, although I suspect that's exactly what you're afraid of."

She withdrew her hand sharply. He was right, and she hated him for it. He always knew. "So when do I leave?" she said, trying unconvincingly for nonchalance.

He sighed. "That's what I need to discuss with you. It's true I felt that it would be best if we parted ways at least for now, for no reason other than that after last night I have proven myself to pose an unacceptable risk to you. However, I received some news today which changes the situation. Neither of us are leaving, at least not for now."

Liz's stomach began to clench again. She hadn't eaten in a while and she felt lightheaded, clouded by a sense of foreboding. "What's happened?"

"This is going to be difficult to hear, and I need you to stay calm." She nodded wordlessly.

"I've received credible intelligence that Harold Cooper has been arrested for Tom Connolly's murder, and charged under title eight of the patriot act. You understand what that means?"

She paled. If moments before she had felt perfectly alone, she now realised that she truly was. Cooper had become like a father figure, and was the last person in DC who knew she had been set up.

"Lizzie?"

She nodded, trying to find her voice. "He'll be charged as a domestic terrorist for the assassination of the AG. They could seek the death penalty" she whispered.

"It's not a matter of if they will, but when."

Panic began to bubble up inside her. "But he didn't do it! My God, I shot Connolly and he was begging me not to do it. I told Ressler that, I told him Cooper had nothing to do with it! I don't understand how this could happen!"

"It's way out of Agent Ressler's hands. This is the Cabal's next move, Lizzie. It's a trap, designed to lure you out. That's why we can't risk moving at the moment."

"A trap? So you don't think he's really been charged?"

"Oh I'm quite sure that he has. Lizzie please understand that you've made a very powerful enemy. They will stop at nothing to find you and discredit you. If they do find you, you'll suffer the same fate that they have planned for Harold. It's imperative that you lie low now, and do exactly as I say."

She was shaking visibly now, he could see her shutting down. "Cooper…" she whispered.

He reached for her unresisting hand and softened his tone. "I assure you my people are doing everything they can for him. You have to trust me now."

She nodded without speaking and then rose to leave the room. Her eyes seemed deadened and his concern for her would have been greater had she not reappeared an hour or so later, looking strangely calm and quite beautiful. When they had stopped for clothes for her she had grabbed mostly jeans, shirts and sweaters, but he had taken the liberty of adding a few extra items. She stood before him now in a long blue skirt and white blouse, her hair loose. The sight of her brought a small smile to his lips, which she returned wistfully before speaking.

"I'm going for a walk - I need to clear my head."

He was relieved that she was taking things better than he had anticipated. Granted, she would need time to process everything, but she seemed to understand that at least. Aside from the news from DC, their conversation this morning had been difficult for her, and more devastating for him than she would ever know. He nodded gently, telling her not to go far, and she closed the door behind her. He watched her from the window, her figure becoming smaller and smaller as she made her way across the clearing outside the house and round the edge of the lake. He saw her perch on the jetty in the distance, looking out over the water, framed by trees and the light of the fading late afternoon sun.

It was moments such as these that allowed him to forget, for just a few precious minutes, the stark reality of their situation. He smiled and returned to the briefing papers Mr Kaplan had sent him on the Cabal's movements since the first wave of media response, trying to find a link to Cooper. It caused his brow to furrow – reality coming back too soon. After a while he glanced back again to reward himself with another glimpse of Lizzie by the lake. When he looked up she was gone.

TBC